The Chef and the Chauffer
by Suit Yourself
Summary: In which Bellamy Blake is a police officer who falls for John Murphy, a troubled orphan whose guts his sister just so happens to hate. Murphamy, modern AU, dark themes
1. The Delinquent

Bellamy didn't have time for this. The thought sent a minor shockwave of guilt right through to his core, but it was true nonetheless. He had a job to do and shit to get done around the house. The faucet in the kitchen was still perpetually leaky and he had yet to figure out why. He was sick of living with the incessant drip-dripping of his water bill needlessly rising, but yet rather than using this blessed morsel of free time to tackle the issue that had been nagging at him for weeks, he was sat across from Octavia's balding algebra teacher discussing her falling grades.

He didn't give half a rat's ass about Octavia's grades. There was nothing he could do about it. He didn't have the time to help her or the willpower to force her to try any harder than she already did. He had always been a bit of a softie in that regard, allowing his younger sister to get away with anything, well, anything within the confines of the law, of course.

So no, he couldn't much be bothered to scold Octavia on her wavering D- in math. Hell, he was twenty-four years old and still wondering why the hell their mom had to go and die, effectively making it his responsibly to safeguard his sister's GPA. It was hard playing the part of a single father to his seventeen year-old sister. Damn near exhausting, at times. She was his rock and his world, but she could also be a handful; toting both the emotional damage of an orphan and the hyped-up drama of a high school girl, whilst hoping that he'd somehow have the tools to fix everything for her and right the crooked ground she currently stood upon.

But he couldn't. He couldn't fix her grades, or friendships, couldn't stop her from being bullied, or waking up with nightmares. It all left him feeling so very hollowed out and useless. She deserved more, something better than he would ever be able to offer her. He wanted to give her the universe, he truly did, but giving her a shabby roof over her head and thrift store blouses was already taxing enough, and he just didn't see how the galaxy and beyond could be worked into the equation.

He walked out into the hall of the aging high school with numb legs and the taste of defeat on his tongue. He didn't know what to say to Octavia. He didn't exactly think that telling her that she was fine and he couldn't care less about her grades, as long as she pulled through in the end and swung for a diploma, would be the best thing for him to do. Even if his words would have been comforting and rung true. He should encourage her to try harder, telling her that he knew that she was brilliant and capable of doing so much better, but he couldn't say that either. It would just seem forced and she would know that he was trying too hard, doing what he thought he ought to rather than what he wanted to.

So the dim lights buzzed above their heads and they strolled towards the exit in a state of nearly tangible silence.

"Dammit, Murphy! You little piece of shit!"

The words easily penetrated the unease between his sister and him, as they both glanced about the hallway, searching in vain for the source of the racket. A smirk was growing on Octavia's lips and he could tell that her mood was lightening now, if only a little. It was a bit odd that a random verbal assault in the hallway was the cause of her mirth, but he'd gladly take it. Whatever got her grinning like that was fine in his book. At least, that was until the verbal assault clearly evolved into more and a sudden pounding sound reverberated through the sparse halls, and a grunt of pain quickly followed after it.

"Why the hell would you post that fucking picture?"

Another pounding sound. Another grunt. "Because you looked great in it? I think that it really captured just how shitty you..." The sound of lockers rattling flooded Bellamy's ears now, and the grunts dissolved into labored groans. Octavia's lips were still on the rise, but he had, quite frankly, had enough. It was his job to protect people, it was what he had always wanted to do, set out to do, and even if he felt like he did a pretty poor job of it most of the time, he still couldn't understand why it was that he was just standing around listening to a kid clearly getting the crap beat out of him just a few hallway turns away. He quickened his pace, allowing Octavia to fall back behind him until he felt her small yet firm fingers wrap around his wrist and freeze his step.

She smiled at him, laughing a little as she shook her head. "Bell, stop, this is gold."

Gold? "What the hell is that supposed to mean, O?" he questioned, trying his best to voice his disapproval. He wasn't raising his sister to be the sort of person who found schoolyard tussles to be a source of entertainment and enjoyment.

"That guy? Murphy. He really is a piece of shit, he deserves this, trust me."

"What did he do?" Bellamy questioned, his voice dropping to a decibel worthy of the conspiring whispers of high school gossip.

"I dunno what he did this time, but he's trash who's had this coming for a long time. Everyone hates him, Dax is doing us all a favor."

Bellamy nervously licked his lips and slowly, but decisively, shook his head. "No, O, I can't just let some kid get beat up because you don't like him."

Octavia rolled her eyes and softly kicked at the tiled floor with the heel of her boot, like a child who wasn't being given what she wanted. "Mr. High and Mighty riding the morals train."

Bellamy didn't even want to try to riddle out whatever the hell she was trying to say. He shook his arm free of her hand and continued jogging down the hallway until the scene he had been eavesdropping on for nearly five minutes was finally playing out in front of him in full color.

There was a scrawny looking brunette boy being pinned against the wall of lockers by a domineering forearm being pushed against his chest. He had blood spurting out of his nose, crudely reminding Bellamy of his broken faucet, and there were abrasive cuts along his jaw and cheeks. One of his eyes also appeared to be a bit on the puffy side, but from the distance at which Bellamy was standing, he couldn't be quite sure.

His assailant, Dan, or whatever Octavia had called him, was leering over him with joyful retribution in his eyes and a rising fist. "Hey, stop!" Bellamy yelled out, rushing the remainder of the hallway until he was close enough to grab aforementioned fist and force it back down to drape at the boy's side. Dave seemed to be startled by the sudden appearance of an unknown adult, and he quickly took a step backwards, as though by doing so he could wash his hands of the blood caking to them and take on the image of perfect innocence.

Once released, Murphy stumbled away from the wall behind him and met Bellamy's gaze with downturned lips and narrowed eyes. Bellamy had to give Octavia credit where credit was due, he hadn't yet gotten the thanks he felt that he was most certainly owed, and was fast beginning to think that she had been right about this guy being a prick.

Both of the teenagers continued to regard him with silent disapproval and it slowly dawned on him that they were waiting for him to be the one to cut through the tension. Being a police officer who dealt with troubled kids very nearly on the daily, Bellamy knew that he should have something cool to say, some readily-available sensational speech that would convince the two boys to shake hands and swear to a life of peace and love, but instead, the best that he could think to say was, "I'm a cop, come with me," as he tugged on the sleeve of Murphy's jacket. He felt like an inarticulate idiot, and it didn't help that he completely ignored Dane's presence. It wasn't his duty to stop the feud between them and bring tranquility to Murphy's life, though. All he wanted to do was stop the geyser of blood coming out of his nose and prove some sort of point to his sister about forgiveness or some crap.

He found Octavia staring at him from a few paces down the hallway with bored eyes and pursed lips. "Murphy," she mumbled, icily, as her eyes moved down to meet his. "My idiot brother here wouldn't listen to me when I told him that he should let Dax wring your neck."

"What a crying shame," Murphy mumbled, pressing the back of his hand to his nose and wincing as it rapidly became stained with red.

"Octavia, could you maybe, not?" Bellamy whispered, doing the best mockery of a parental glare that he could muster. "Just play nice for five seconds and tell me where the nurse's office is."

"It's after hours, the nurse isn't here. Looks like Murphy will just have to bleed out. Oh well."

Murphy grinned at her even as a flood of bright fury reached his eyes. "Real cute, Blake. Nice to know you care."

"About your death? Oh, I definitely care. Trust me, I'd bury you with bells on."

"Wait, am I the one wearing the bells or are you, because I just..."

"Hey, both of you, shut up." Bellamy still hadn't released Murphy's jacket, and he had no intention of doing so as he began to stroll back down the hallway, this time headed towards the front doors. Octavia followed after them, having no real choice in the matter.

Before he knew it, the three of them were seated in his junk heap of a Honda and Murphy was dripping blood onto his back seat. "If I take you home can your parents get you fixed up?" he questioned, glancing back at Murphy with an expression of what he thought to be a mix of pity and pure annoyance.

Murphy glanced up at him before his eyes guiltily flickered back down to the new splatters of red decorating Bellamy's car. He wordlessly shrugged his shoulders.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Bellamy asked, his tone harsh as his annoyance speedily outweighed any semblance of pity he might hold for the kid.

"I mean I live alone and don't really have any Band-Aids and shit, but I can figure something out, it's not as bad as it looks."

"I think your nose is broken."

"Bell, I've got algebra homework and if I don't go home and do it right now my grades going to tank even more, can't you just dump Murphy at his house and get on with it?"

Bellamy had never known his sister to be so eager to get her homework done, and though he really wished that he could have faith in her newfound zest for education, but he simply called bullshit. "O, come on...okay, fine. Murphy, you come back to our house and I'll do my best to patch you up, then I'll give you a ride home. Octavia, you can get started on your algebra."

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest in the passenger seat next to him with an irritated huff of her breath. She was clearly still bothered by Murphy's presence but had given up on trying to talk sense into her brother. Whatever, she could pout all she wanted to as long as she sucked it up and let Bellamy tend to the bleeding delinquent. "Fine, but if he steals anything while he's at our house, don't say I didn't warn you, Bell."

Murphy didn't say anything in response, which did serve to make Bellamy more than a little bit on edge. Finally after he set the car in motion and they were halfway back to the Blake house, the silence in the car had become just a tad too suffocating and Bellamy thought it more than necessary that he put a stop to it. "So, what was that guy's beef with you?"

Murphy's hands were still crimson red and cupped over his nose, obviously trying to keep Bellamy's car from becoming even more of a blood bath than it already was. He snickered and shrugged his shoulders. "He's an asshole."

"Right, _he's_ the asshole," Octavia muttered, glaring over her shoulder at him.

"He is. All I did was post a picture of him with his tongue down Roma's throat. His girlfriend, Fox, saw it and kicked his ass to the curb. It was awesome, but you know, I don't think he thought it was quite as awesome as I did."

Bellamy glanced away from the road for a moment to meet his blue eyes, his eyebrows arching with intrigue. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, Fox deserved to know."

"Are you seriously trying to say that you did it for Fox's benefit?" Octavia questioned, a dubious expression of disbelief shifting over her features.

"Well, that and because I wanted to watch Dax suffer."

"Naturally."

"But you've got to give me this one, Blake, it's not like I was really the one in the wrong here."

"Maybe not, but there's been plenty of cases where you were."

"Goggles?"

"For example, yes."

Murphy sighed, and shifted his shoulders back in a clear show of discomfort. "Okay, I'm sorry. You've gotta admit he is a bit of a whiny bitch, though."

"Jasper's my friend, I'm not going to talk shit about him with you. Especially not after what you said to him."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"No. I'm not. Can't stand that kid."

Bellamy kept silent, content to eavesdrop on the conversation, having nothing to add to it, himself. He did know Jasper, he'd come around to their house a few times. He seemed like a nice guy, the sort of guy that he was okay with Octavia hanging around with. But, he hadn't a clue what had transpired between him and Murphy, so it really wasn't his place to comment on it.

"I know. You can't stand him because he's actually a decent human being and you're jealous that you lost your shot at being one a long time ago."

"Oh, Blake, please, you do wound me so. However will I go on?"

"Shut up. And stop calling me Blake, John."

Bellamy watched from the side view mirror as Murphy shot his sister a death glare before the words, "Don't you fucking dare call me that," spilt from his lips like acid.

As they pulled into the driveway, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he had made a bad decision in allowing this mess of a kid with vibrantly apparent anger issues to come to their house. "It's your name, isn't it?" Octavia asked, flashing him a triumphant grin.

"Octavia," Bellamy whispered, setting a hand down on her lap as he tried to get her to quiet down. He obviously couldn't appeal to Murphy to calm down before they made their way into the house, but he could try to get his sister to stop baiting him. "Come on, let's just go inside."

Octavia narrowed her eyes at him before puffing out another flippant breath and opening the door next to her, stepping out quickly and slamming it behind her. He was left in the car with just Murphy for one brief, awkward moment, until he made his way out of the car, too.

He unlocked the front door and held it open for the both of the teenagers, Octavia walking through first and Murphy hanging back on the porch for a moment, hesitancy shinning in his eyes even as his blood dripped down onto the concrete. Bellamy motioned for him to come inside, and he finally nodded and did just that.

He glanced around the house with anxiety spilling over his features. "I don't...want to get blood anywhere."

"Right," Bellamy said with a nod of his head. "Just stand there and I'll get something to stop the bleeding."

Octavia disappeared upstairs, shutting her bedroom door behind her, as Bellamy rushed into the bathroom to grab cotton pads, Band-Aids, ointments, Tylenol, and whatever the hell else he thought might be of use. He hurried back to find Murphy staring at the framed pictures lining the wall next to the front door. Their mother had framed them, Bellamy had hung them, and life hadn't been perfect but it had been so much closer to it than it was now. He wished he could step back into those framed memories more than anything. Back to the simpler times when he was just a cadet getting ready to move out on his own and make his way in the world.

"Your mom dead?" Murphy posed the question with such a callously casual tone that had his nose not already been broken, Bellamy might've been inclined to make it so. He grit his teeth and stiffly nodded his head. Murphy nodded back at him, frowning slightly before he asked, "Dad?"

"Never met 'im. And Octavia's left before she was born. Now come on and let me fix your nose."

Murphy fell silent, finally getting the hint that Bellamy wasn't in the mood to discuss his broken family with his sister's apparent arch nemesis. It didn't take long for him to stop the steady stream of blood and scrub his face clean. Murphy didn't show any outward indications of pain throughout the process, but it was evident in his glistening eyes and impatient acceptance of the pain pills Bellamy offered him.

Eventually Murphy was sitting at his dining table, medical supplies lying about haphazardly atop it, and Bellamy was sitting across from him, sighing as he steeled himself to hop back into the Honda and give the ungrateful bastard a ride home.

"Thanks."

The whispered word took Bellamy off-guard, and he couldn't help but smile a bit as he nodded his head and capped the lip over the Tylenol. "Welcome."

At that moment Octavia strolled back down the stairs, clothed in her makeshift pajamas of short-shorts and a tank. Her eyes widened comically as they landed on Murphy before they angrily snapped to meet her brother's. "He's still here!? For real?"

"Hasn't been that long, O."

"Been long enough."

Bellamy couldn't help it, he was curious. The question had been nagging at him for an hour, and he finally couldn't keep from asking it any longer. "Why do you hate him?"

Murphy tilted his head to the side, grinning at Bellamy as a soft burst of laughter escaped his lips. "Yeah, Blake, why do you hate me? What could I possibly have done?"

Octavia rolled her eyes as she slowly strolled over to the table. "Well first off, he threatened to kill Jasper, so that was nice."

"The guy wouldn't shut up. Like, okay, you have a broken arm, good for you. No one gives a shit, stop whining about it."

Bellamy snickered, remembering that time. Jasper had tried skateboarding while he was high on who knows what. It hadn't ended well. He couldn't really even blame Murphy. Every time Octavia had brought him over during the period that his arm was enclosed by a cast, there had been some mention made of how painful broken bones were, enough mention to give him a headache, actually.

"Bell! What the hell, why are you grinning about this?" Octavia yelled, disapprovingly.

Bellamy shrugged. "Jasper really was super obnoxious about his arm, O."

"You're a cop, Bellamy! You're not supposed to laugh about death threats!"

"Right, because I'm sure Murphy was really considering killing him."

"Oh, I was."

Bellamy tried, he really did, but despite his best efforts, he burst out laughing.

"Bell! What the hell!? Why are you bonding with him!? Stop it!"

"Come on, O. You're going to have to give me a better reason for hating him."

"Well he..." Octavia started, before her eyes nervously met Murphy's. Resolve spilled over her expression and she cockily stated, "He also once called me a spoiled bitch weirdo and then proceeded to come on to me."

Bellamy's eyebrows rose and he shifted in his chair to meet Murphy's eyes. Murphy's grin faltered a bit and his hand came up to his nose before he seemed to think better of touching it and dropped his hand back down to his lap. "In my defense, I think she has the order of those events wrong."

"Wow, so you called my little sister a spoiled bitch weirdo _and_ you came on to her?"

"In my defense, I come on to everyone."

"Bullying Jasper is one thing, but you do not mess with my sister," Bellamy growled, his tone taking on a slightly threatening edge.

"Noted. Very much noted."

"Shut up and stand up. I'm taking you home."

Murphy licked his bottom lip, his eyes flickering down to the wood of the table. "Okay." He stood up quickly and dashed outside before Bellamy even had the chance to take a step towards the door.

"I'm sorry about bringing him over her, O. I shouldn't have."

Octavia shrugged her shoulders, her lips tugging upwards slightly. "Nice to see that you're acknowledging you were wrong. Next time listen to me. I'm a good judge of character, and Murphy has none."

Bellamy slowly bobbed his head up and down before he briefly pulled her into his arms and made his way to the front door, resting his hand down on the handle. "Be back soon."

"Okay, see you, Bell!" Octavia called back, waving at him as he opened the door and stepped outside.

Murphy was already sitting shotgun in the car. Bellamy could've sworn he locked it, but he didn't pay it much thought and simply took his place in the driver's seat. "Where do you live?"

"Bluff Ave," Murphy mumbled, settling back in his seat and gazing out the window next to him.

"Shit, you mean those apartments, North Commons?"

"Yes."

"Shit, Murphy. That place is...the amount of times I've had to respond to a call from there. Damn."

"I work at a fucking amusement park, what the hell do you want from me?"

Bellamy nibbled at his lip and set his hands down on the steering wheel, backing out of the driveway as an uneasy quiet filled the space between them. He had been mad at Murphy for the shit he'd said to Octavia, he really had been, but that didn't mean that he thought the kid deserved to live in a dangerous, addict-ridden hellhole. "Where are your parents?" he asked bluntly, not feeling too guilty about the question, because Murphy had interrogated him over the very same topic, after all.

"Pretty damn dead."

He wasn't sure why that wasn't the answer that he had been expecting. He'd just thought that Murphy seemed like the sort of kid who had thrown some sort of tantrum and moved away from his parents the second he turned eighteen just for the pure joy of rebellion and the idealistic notion of freedom. "How long have you lived alone?"

"I was in foster until a few months ago. Trust me, squandering in a cockroach infested drug den is better than most of the foster homes I stayed at."

Bellamy didn't even know how to respond to that. Sure he was an orphan too, so he could understand that much, but he hadn't lost his mother until he was already an adult, capable of taking care of himself with moderate ease. And sure Octavia had been orphaned at an earlier age than he had, but she'd always had him, and while Bellamy often didn't feel like he was enough, he was still more than Murphy had. Octavia had always had him and he'd always had her and it was impossible for him to imagine what it felt like to have no one. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Murphy snickered and casually shrugged his shoulders. "I don't need your pity. And I didn't need you to rescue me today, I was fine."

"Sure you were."

"I was." Murphy sighed and ran his now blood-free hands through his greasy, overgrown hair. "But, listen, Blake, I didn't mean any harm to your sister. She just...I've always thought that she was from a different world of Malibu Barbies and picket fences and that pissed me off, so I've been an asshole to her. I didn't know that she had lost her parents too, or I wouldn't have..."

"It's fine, Murphy. I get it. Just...you know, be nice to her now that you know."

"I mean, I'll give it my best approximation of kindness, but I've gotta warn you that it's not all that close to the real thing."

Bellamy smiled over at him and curled his fingers tighter around the wheel. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. You don't seem all that bad."

Murphy smiled back at him, his cheeks tinging a pale shade of red. Bellamy wondered when the last time the kid had been told that he was anything more than worthless was. If even his sister, his sweet little sister had told Murphy that he was a less than decent human being, then Bellamy couldn't imagine that there were many people, if any, who regarded him with anything but disgust.

It didn't take long before Murphy's apartment building came into view. Bellamy really was quite familiar with it. From drug busts to domestic abuse, it simply wasn't the sort of place that a teenage boy should be living all alone. He almost couldn't bear to pull into its parking lot knowing that once he did, he would have to hand Murphy back over to his regularly scheduled shit-show of a life and try to forget that he had ever met him. Because Murphy wasn't his problem. It was as simple as that. He had helped him as best he could, and whatever happened to him from here wasn't any of his concern. Octavia was his only concern; Octavia had always been his only concern.

He put the car in park and waited for Murphy to get out.

Murphy pulled the passenger door open and shifted in his seat so that his feet dropped down onto the gravel beneath them. "Wait." Bellamy had tried to lock the word between his lips, but it broke through despite him.

Murphy froze and glanced back over his shoulder at him, curiosity in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Can I give you my phone number? I just...don't feel right about leaving you here. This place gives me the creeps, and I'd feel better knowing that you can give me a call if you ever need anything."

Murphy's eyebrows rose with surprise and he grinned at Bellamy, his teeth shining through and everything. He nodded his head and dug into his pocket before pushing his cell phone into Bellamy's hand. "I can take care of myself, but whatever floats your boat, Blake."

"I just set my contact as Bellamy, so you'd better start calling me that."

Murphy stared down at his cell phone as Bellamy placed it back into his waiting hand with an inscrutable intensity in his gaze. "I don't think I'll be calling you much of anything," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Thanks. Really. 'Preciate it."

And then he was gone. The door shutting behind him before Bellamy had the chance to utter another word. The car felt oddly empty as he watched Murphy climb up the staircase to his apartment, bypassing an aging smoker who shot him an uncomfortably lust-filled grin. Bellamy's heart was pounding quicker than it really should have, and he felt very nearly nauseous. But there was nothing he could do. He had already done more than he should have, he reasoned. So, he pulled out of the parking lot and wondered if Murphy would ever make use of the number he had given him. And even more than that, he wondered why it was that he really hoped that he would.

* * *

 **I've already written most of this fic, so updates should be fairly regular. Also heads up, the first half of this is mostly just angst and fluff, but the second half is much darker. Nothing too graphic, though. Anyway, follows and reviews are much appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!**


	2. The Birthday Girl

"Octavia, I don't think you're as good of a judge of character as you think that you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His sister was perched on the small loveseat in their living room, watching some cheesy looking sitcom and sucking on a bright green Popsicle. Bellamy forced her to drop her feet onto the ground and scoot over as he took a seat next to her. "Murphy."

"Dammit, Bellamy, not this again. Let me watch TV in peace."

"No, O, this is important."

"Not if it's about John Murphy it isn't."

"Just listen to me, Octavia." Bellamy reached over her to snag the remote from off of the armrest next to her and tried to ignore her glaring at him as he pushed the paused button.

She rolled her eyes at him and half-heartedly mumbled, "What is it, then?"

"I think that you should be his friend."

Octavia let out a sharp bark of laughter, her head tilting back with the force of her amusement. "You've got to be kidding me. Murphy!? You want me to become friends with Murphy?"

"Or at least just be nice to him when you see him around, O. Please. He's...I feel really bad for the kid."

Octavia calmed herself down and frowned at him for a moment before finally asking, "And why's that? What happened when you dropped him off, Bell?"

"He lives alone at North Commons."

"North what now?"

"Commons. It's a rat's nest, O. Shittiest place for miles. Dangerous too."

"Good, sounds like he's right where he belongs."

"No. You don't mean that. Both of his parents are dead, I'm pretty sure he's an only child, and like you said, everyone at your school hates him. Can you imagine how lonely he must be? I know that you just think he's a bully who doesn't deserve to be shown any kindness because he doesn't show any to anyone else, but...He's really just a broken kid who's so used to being treated like shit that he doesn't see the point in acting like he's anything more than that anymore."

"Oh please, it's not like our lives have been a cake walk, Bell. I don't have any parents either, but you don't see me running around pissing in people's lockers."

"He did that?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, gross, but that's not the point. You have me, Octavia. You have friends. There's so many people that love you and watch out for you. Jasper, Clarke, Lexa, Gaia, Monty, Raven, Finn, Harper, Miller, Wells; they all care about you. Who cares about Murphy?"

"I don't know. Maybe Mbege." She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest as she stuck the now empty stick of her Popsicle into her mouth and added, "And apparently you."

Bellamy didn't bother arguing with her, because her words weren't exactly untrue. The fact that he was even having this conversation with her was proof enough that he did care. At least a little bit. "And you live here in a mildly crappy, but fairly safe house with your police officer brother who would do anything in the world to protect you, so you really can't act like you have it as rough as he does, because you just don't, O."

"Fine, whatever you say. I don't like him and I'm not becoming his friend, though, so just go away and let me finish this episode."

And so that's just what Bellamy did.

* * *

He'd told Octavia he'd give her a ride home. Normally he made her walk or ride the bus, because she hadn't saved up enough for a car yet and their house really wasn't all that far from the school, but today was special and he'd told her that he'd give her a ride home.

He was parked waiting for the bell to ring and for her last class to be officially over when he saw him. Murphy. He was leaning against the brick wall of the school with a lit cigarette between his fingers. Bellamy rolled down the window and leaned out of it. "What the hell are you doing!?"

Murphy's eyes rapidly flew up to meet his and Bellamy thought that he saw the corners of his lips begin to rise until he took a breath and turned his expression into one of steely disinterest. "What's it look like I'm doing!?"

"You're going to get yourself suspended, put it out, Murphy."

Murphy shrugged his shoulders and took a drag on the cigarette, obviously ignoring him just for the hell of it. Bellamy rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the car and hurried to Murphy's side. He snagged the cig from him and tossed it into the grass, feeling a bit guilty as he stomped it into the dirt. He was a cop. He wasn't supposed to litter. And frankly he should be giving Murphy an earful about the dangers of smoking, especially smoking at school, but he didn't bother. Instead, he just smiled at him and whispered, "Good to see you, Murphy."

"Yeah, you too," Murphy mumbled, looking a bit peeved at the loss of his cigarette, but otherwise his words seemed grounded in truth. "What are you doing here?"

"Picking up Octavia, it's her birthday."

"Oh."

"I'm letting her have a big party at our house. It's going to be a mess, not really looking forward to it."

Murphy grinned at him and chuckled a little. "I can imagine. She has some pretty annoying friends."

Bellamy laughed and nodded his head. "Kinda. Hoping there won't be any drugs, but with Jasper and Monty coming, I wouldn't bet on it. Swear, they should know better than to start smoking pot with an officer around. Think I've let them get away with it too many times."

"You don't seem that great at your job."

"Jerk."

"Oh, you know it."

"I'll have you know, I do okay."

"Okay? Ooh, how impressive."

"Shut up, Murphy." They both fell into comfortable silence for a moment until the sound of the bell ringing shook them back into reality. Bellamy knew that Octavia would be coming out any moment. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't feel like he had enough time left to truly make an intelligent decision on the matter that prompted him to say, "You should come."

"Come where?"

"To Octavia's party."

Murphy shot him a look of pure bewilderment and burst out laughing as he shook his head. "And why the hell would I want to do that? Besides, your sister would murder both of us."

"She'd deal. You should just come. It's Friday, and I'm just going to go out on a limb and say that you probably don't have any other plans."

"I have work."

"Take it off."

"Does my apartment leave you with the impression that I can afford to take a day off?"

Bellamy sighed and shook his head, his back pressing uncomfortably against the wall behind him. "Alright, alright. But you deserve to have fun sometimes too, Murphy. Life is about more than just paying the rent."

"Right, it's also about paying my phone bill."

Bellamy laughed and clapped Murphy on the shoulder before he began to make his way back towards his car, spying Octavia talking to Clarke as the pair strolled out of the other doorway. "The invitation stands."

"Okay, whatever, Bellamy."

He couldn't explain it even if he tried, but something about just hearing Murphy finally use his first name set his smile on steroids and he slammed the door to his car shut while trying to hide his growing grin behind his hand. Octavia joined him in the car a moment later, and when he looked back up hoping to meet Murphy's eyes one last time, he found that he was gone.

* * *

"Everything set?"

"Pizzas ordered. Soda on the table. Stereo at the ready."

"All the makings of a perfect party. _If_ I was still in middle school."

"Don't give me that, pizzas good at any age."

"If you say so."

Octavia sat down on the loveseat, her feet anxiously tapping against the wooden floor beneath her.

Clarke and Lexa were the first ones to show up. Bellamy wasn't surprised. Clarke was known for her punctuality, and she had clearly forced Lexa into adopting her habit. Next came Miller, who brought Bryan. Raven showed up with Finn. Monty and Jasper turned up, blessedly drug free. Harper came next. Then Wells. And finally Gaia appeared on the doorstep looking a tad too hesitant and unsure of herself. Her friendship with Octavia was very new and still a bit rocky, so Bellamy did his best to make her feel at home with a cup of Sprite in her hand and a slice of pepperoni on her plate.

There were way too many people crammed into their tiny home, way, way too many people. So after an hour of mildly dull partying when another knock on the door suddenly echoed throughout the house, hardly audibly above the bass of the stereo, Bellamy was anything but pleased. "Shit, O, I thought everyone was here. How many people did you invite?"

"Everyone is here," she whispered, taking a sip of her Coke before she teasingly added, "Maybe it's the neighbors coming to tell us to be quiet."

"Wouldn't be surprised," Bellamy mumbled, "Hope no one calls the cops." It was a real struggle to push past the dancing teens and make his way to the front door. He shoved it open without putting much thought into who he expected to find on the other side. It was Murphy. Of course it was Murphy. He wondered why he felt genuinely surprised. "Oh, hey." Dammit, he hadn't told his sister that he had invited him. When she saw him she was going to lose it. He had told Murphy that she wouldn't, but even then he had known that he was lying through his teeth. There was no way she'd simply deal with him letting Murphy crash her special birthday party. No way at all.

"Hey, yourself."

"Thought you had work."

"I did. Left an hour early, no biggie."

"Well...glad you decided to come."

"Yeah, sure. You going to let me inside, though, or what?"

"Right, sorry. Come on." Bellamy steeled himself for the unstoppable wave of terror his sister was set to unleash upon him while Murphy crossed the threshold and stepped into the living room full of her friends.

"Murphy?" Clarke questioned, eyes wide in awe as she caught sight of him.

"Eh, Princess."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Monty asked, fury flashing through his normally relaxed features. He stepped in front of Jasper as though he had deemed it necessary to form a barrier between the two.

Murphy rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, clearly so uncomfortable that he had forgotten that his nose was still very much broken. He winced in pain before shrugging his shoulders and awkwardly mumbling, "I was invited."

"No you sure as hell were not!" Octavia shouted, bursting through the crowd of her friends with all the melodrama of a freshly formed adult. "Get the hell out of here, John. Why would you even come here?"

Murphy's breath hitched and he glanced back at Bellamy with startled eyes.

Octavia followed his gaze and her eyes narrowed as they fell onto him. "Bellamy, was this your doing?"

Bellamy hesitantly nodded his head. "I thought..."

"I know what you thought, but you had no right. You don't get to invite people to my birthday party."

Harper leaned close to Octavia and asked in a tone that made no attempt at being a whisper, "Why would your brother invite that douche?"

Murphy then hurriedly spun around and dashed out the door. Bellamy followed him, the door slamming shut behind him and leaving the raucous of the party in his wake. "Murphy! Wait!" he yelled, being forced to start running to try to catch up with him. Finally he was close enough to clamp his hand down on Murphy's and stop him from getting any further away.

"Get your fucking hand off of me!" Murphy yelled, stepping out of his grip and taking a step back away from him.

"I'm so sorry, Murphy. I didn't know it would turn out like that."

"Fun? Fuck you, Bellamy. You think I need them to hate me any more than they already do?"

"No, I didn't...I wasn't thinking. I just really wanted you to come, and I wasn't thinking."

Murphy's eyes were glistening in the dim light of the moon and his hands were squeezed into fists at his side. Bellamy wondered if he was about to punch him. He wouldn't blame him if he did.

"Whatever, it doesn't even matter. I don't know why I expected this night to turn out any differently." Murphy turned away from him and started walking back down the shadowy street, his pace a bit more casual than before, but still quick enough that it was obvious he wanted nothing more than to put distance between himself and Bellamy.

Bellamy hurried after him once again, far too desperate to respect Murphy's desire for distance. "No, please, I'm sorry. I wanted to help you."

"Help me? With what? Making an even bigger ass out of myself than I usually do? Props."

"With...I thought that if you came to the party maybe Octavia would give you another chance and the two of you could become friends."

Murphy laughed humorlessly and rolled his eyes. "Nice try. Think it worked. We're totally besties now for sure."

"I'm sorry," Bellamy repeated, feeling very much like a hopelessly broken record. "I was an idiot, I know. But please don't hold this against me, Murphy."

"Why do you even give a flying fuck what I think about you?"

"Because I just...thought that maybe even if Octavia is too stubborn to forgive and forget and be your friend that maybe I could...you know, take her place."

"Huh?"

"I want us to be friends."

"You do realize you sound like an idiot right now, right?"

"I just admitted to being one."

"Well, whatever. Just piss off, Blake. I don't need your pity friendship. Just leave me the hell alone. I don't know why you're so damn invested in my life, but it's creepy as shit and you need to lay off."

Bellamy grit his teeth and shook his head back and forth as he hastened his steps in order to keep in-line with Murphy. "You're going to regret saying that. I'm just trying to be nice. You don't need to push people away all the time. It's stupid and you're only hurting yourself."

"I don't care. People are assholes, I'm an asshole too, the whole world is just a flaming pile of shit and I don't have any shits left to give."

"Murphy..."

"Listen, Blake, it's fine. You screwed me over, but...I'll get over it. So just go back and enjoy your sister's party. You have your life, I have mine."

Bellamy licked his lips and rapidly shook his head back and forth. "No, I'm not okay with that. I don't know why, but you matter to me, Murphy. I want to make things right by you."

Murphy smiled half-heartedly and scoffed as his eyes drifted closed. "You have nothing to make right by me, okay? You're forgiven. That what you're after? I forgive you. You're free to get on with your life now."

"Well, thank you, but that's not what I was after. I'm after showing you that the world isn't something that you should give up on. Not yet. I'm after showing you that not everyone is an asshole. That you're not an asshole. And I'm after...getting you to muster up a few more shits to give."

Murphy lips curled upwards despite himself and a sound that Bellamy suspected was stifled laughter drifted out into the brisk air. "Okay. Have it your way. Let's be…friends."

Bellamy didn't even attempt to hide the smile that overtook his features. "Yeah!?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Great." He tugged his cell out of his pocket and handed it to Murphy. "Since you're obviously never going to use the one I gave you," he explained.

Murphy smirked and typed in his number before handing the phone back to Bellamy. "I don't do phone calls. You want to get in touch, you text me."

Bellamy snickered and nodded his head. "Dully noted." He glanced out at the vacant street stretching out before them, full of sleeping houses and parked cars. "Do you have a car, Murphy?"

"Nah, I don't even have a license. I just always take the bus, or walk, it's why I have such a perfect physique."

Bellamy rolled his eyes before asking, "Why don't you have a license?"

"Dunno. Couldn't afford a car and the insurance and shit even if I had one, so I guess I just haven't bothered with it. Never really had anyone to teach me, either."

Bellamy winced and nodded his head in understanding. "Sorry."

Murphy shrugged. "Don't mind it."

"Isn't it kind of dangerous for you to walk around this late, though? Especially living where you do..."

"Yeah, might die. Give your sister something else to celebrate."

"I'm not kidding, Murph. Let me drive you."

"Careful, you might become my chauffeur."

"Don't count on it. But just this once. I mean, this party is already going to be a huge pain in the ass to clean up; I really don't want to have to clean up after another party if you die."

"Makes sense."

Soon they were back in his car. His car that was still stained with tiny drops of Murphy's blood that Bellamy had never gotten around to trying to scrub out. Murphy didn't seem to notice the residual mess. He was sitting shotgun again.

"Why don't you get a better job?"

"Ha, well, it's hard to get a decent job when you don't have a diploma yet. And a rap sheet..."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, come on, Bellamy. You can't honestly be surprised that I've been to juvie. It's not a big shocker."

"Umm, kinda is."

"Right, because you thought I was the poster child for clean living and staying within the confines of the law."

"What did you do?"

"Got caught drinking when I was fourteen, that was the first thing. Wanted to see what it was that my mom loved about alcohol so damn much and accidentally wound up loving it myself. Then I um...then she died. I started stealing shit, started small but gradually grew ballsy until I got caught trying to take a MacBook, like a damn idiot. Then, for my grand finale, I got in a knife fight."

"Knife fight!?"

"Yeah. Lost. Still got a few scars from it. Spent a lot of time in juvie for that. Can't get it cleared off my record. Hence, job at an amusement park and shit apartment."

"Damn, Murphy, that's all..."

"I know. Now you probably think I deserve everything I got."

"No, I wouldn't say that. You've done some really stupid shit, but who hasn't? Besides, it's not your fault that your mother was an alcoholic or that she died."

"Ooh, see I think she would've had to disagree with you on that one." Murphy's voice dropped a few decibels and his words came out slightly shaky. Bellamy knew that he was still trying to act like life was one big joke, but it was clear that it was a lot more painful than just that for him.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just...nothing."

"Murphy, please. You can tell me. I'm not going to judge you for it. Whatever it is."

He heard Murphy swallow and take a deep breath before he finally whispered, "My mom, she blamed me for my dad's death. I...came home from school one day to find her choking on her own vomit. Called the cops, but they didn't come fast enough. Her last words to me were, " _You know it's all your fault that your dad died, right, John_?" The funny thing is, though, she was right."

Bellamy's eyes widened and he had to hold fast to the steering wheel in order to keep himself grounded. He had known that Murphy had a crap childhood, but this was so much worse than anything he could have imagined. He felt a few tears run down his cheek, and hurriedly wiped at them even as Murphy burst out laughing. "Shit, Bell, you crying? Damn, maybe I oughta write a book about my life, have it be a real tearjerker. You think it'd sell? Ah, but I'm shit at spelling, though. Shame. Guess that's what editors are for though, huh?"

"Murphy. Please don't pretend like you didn't just spill your guts out to me."

"Think my guts are firmly in place. Hope so, anyway."

"How'd your dad die?" Bellamy knew that he probably shouldn't ask, that Murphy had already opened up to him to an incredibly painful degree, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know everything. Every terrible thing that had created the broken boy seated next to him.

Murphy fell silent.

Bellamy didn't push him.

They pulled up in front of North Commons, and Bellamy felt his heart drop with disappointment. He didn't want Murphy to leave. He wanted him to answer his question, to cry on his shoulder, to tear himself open in front of him so that Bellamy could help him put himself back together. Instead, he silently waited for him to get out of the car.

"It was a fire. I was twelve, I'd snuck out to a friend's house during the night for the first time, and my house just decided to spontaneously combust while I was gone. Okay, that's a lie, a tree out in front was struck by lightning or something, whatever, not the point. My mom and dad woke up and cleared out of the place, but when they didn't find me waiting outside for them my dad rushed back into the flaming building desperate to save my life. Obviously, that didn't go so well. My mom wasn't very happy with me. I never snuck out again."

Bellamy's arms were enclosed around him the second the last word left his lips. "You're...incredible, Murphy. You've been through so much, but you're still so strong. None of that is your fault, none of it."

"I don't know. They're both dead either way. I sometimes think I might as well be."

"No. Not okay. Don't you dare say that. Yeah, they are dead. And no you can't change that, but you can live, Murphy. You deserve to live, maybe more than most people do, honestly."

Murphy snickered and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever. This isn't me telling you that I'm considering suicide or some shit. I'm no coward, so you don't need to worry about that. I'm just tired of not having any reason to live other than the fact that I don't want to die, you know?"

"I know."

"Okay, then."

"Like I said, I'm pretty intent on giving you that reason."

"Mmm, won't hold my breath, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Goodnight, Murphy."

"Night, Bellamy." Murphy pushed the car door open but froze before he shifted towards it. "Wait, Bell, how did your mom die? I think I'm owed that much."

Bellamy nodded his head and took a labored breath. "Just your standard car crash."

"Standard, huh?"

"Compared to your sorry tale, yeah, pretty standard." He wanted to add that it had sort of been his fault. That he had been the one behind the wheel. But he figured that if he wanted to get Murphy to stop blaming himself for his parents' deaths, then he should probably stop blaming himself for his, too.

Murphy stepped out of the car then, but he stooped over and leaned back in to say, "Thanks for the ride and for...being my therapist for the night."

"Well you certainly needed one."

Murphy grinned and nodded his head. "Probably. Anyway...text me. Or don't. See if I give a shit."

"Spoiler alert, you do."

"Maybe."

The door slammed shut and Bellamy found himself hiding a small smile behind his hand again. It seemed that Murphy just had that effect on him. He would definitely be making good use out of that brand new contact in his phone. Good use indeed.


	3. The Baker

Bellamy absentmindedly stacked empty red cups as he watched his sister mop up a spillage on the floor of the living room. He had a lot that he wanted to say to her, but for some reason he couldn't quite bring himself to breach the topic.

Luckily, she breached it for him. "So...you were with Murphy for a long time..."

"Yeah, he...he basically told me his entire life story."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Octavia, the way you treated him tonight...it was completely unacceptable. I'm not sure how you could think that it was okay to talk to another human being like that. You were all terrible to him."

"Please, he'll get over it. He's said worse to us."

"Frankly, Octavia, I don't care what he's said to you in the past. That doesn't excuse your behavior."

"Oh my gosh, Bellamy, I had to. Why can't you understand that? You keep expecting me to suddenly start treating Murphy with kid gloves, but you can't seem to wrap your head around the fact that all my friends hate him, and therefore, I'm duty-bound to hate him too."

"No. You can't. I forbid you from hating Murphy."

"Oh do you?"

"I do. Murphy is...You have no idea. How would you feel if Murphy killed himself, O?"

"What? Did he say he wanted to?" Finally, he was getting an almost desirable reaction out of her. She had dropped the wet cloth in her hand and was staring at him with slightly panicky eyes.

"Not really, but it doesn't matter. You don't know what people are going through. You don't know how hard it is for him just to live, and you treating him the way that you do just makes it even harder for him. And I know, I know that you want to turn it around and say that he's making things harder for everyone else too, and I know that he is, but Octavia, you can't keep hiding behind that excuse. I need you to be nice to him, even if you don't understand why it is that you have to be nice to someone who isn't very nice to you, I just need you to do. If not for his sake, then do it for me, O. Please."

Octavia licked her lips, her eyes narrowing at him as she hesitantly nodded her head. "Alright, Bellamy. If this is that important to you, then I'll try. I'll try to get my friends to accept him too, I mean, I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best. Only for your sake, though."

"Thank you. That's all that I ask."

* * *

Bellamy was busy. Busy, busy, busy. No time for troubled teens, no matter how badly he wished that there was.

Until, finally, Thanksgiving was around the corner. Things grew a little chillier and life became a little slower. Blessedly slower.

 **Tuesday November 20**

 _ **6:32 PM:**_ _Murphy, sorry about taking so long to msg. wondering if you want to come for Thanksgiving?_

 _ **7:00 PM:**_ _Have work_

 _ **7:02 PM**_ _Seriously?_

 _ **7:02 PM:**_ _Yeah_

 _ **7:10 PM:**_ _Amusement park open on Thanksgiving? No way._

 _ **7:11 PM:**_ _It is_

 _ **7:12 PM:**_ _Liar._

 _ **7:12 PM:**_ _I'm not_

 _ **7:16 PM:**_ _Well shit._

 _ **7:30 PM:**_ _Sorry. O will be happy, though_

 _ **7:45 PM:**_ _O can suck it._

 _ **7:46 PM:**_ _Hahaha, wow, watch it, Bell, that's ur sister_

 _ **7:50 PM:**_ _Wow, really? O is my sister? I'm shocked._

 _ **7:53 PM:**_ _I know u r_

 _ **8:00 PM:**_ _You can't possibly be working all day, though, Murph._

 _ **8:01 PM:**_ _Always tired after work. Grades suck. No time._

 _ **8:04 PM:**_ _Feels like u r making lame excuses._

 _ **8:17 PM:**_ _Maybe_

 _ **8:17 PM:**_ _Why?_

 _ **9:00 PM:**_ _O_

 _ **9:02 PM:**_ _She promised to play nice._

 _ **9:06 PM:**_ _Doesn't matter_

 _ **9:31 PM:**_ _You say that a lot._

 _ **9:32 PM:**_ _What?_

 _ **9:36 PM:**_ _Nothing matters._

 _ **9:36 PM:**_ _Nothing does_

 _ **9:36 PM:**_ _Ur wrong._

 _ **10:00 PM:**_ _Don't think so_

 _ **10:02 PM:**_ _Just come. Plz_

 _ **10:03 PM:**_ _Cuz you inviting me to shit went so well last time_

 _ **10:04 PM:**_ _Won't be like that_

 _ **10:05 PM:**_ _Idk_

 _ **10:06 PM:**_ _I promise. Plzzzzzz_

 _ **10:07 PM:**_ _Clingy much. K. After work? Late_

 _ **10:08 PM:**_ _Hell yeah. What time?_

 _ **10:10 PM:**_ _7?_

 _ **10:10 PM:**_ _That's fine. C U_

 _ **10:11 PM:**_ _K, C U_

* * *

Bellamy couldn't cook. Not even a little bit. Neither could Octavia. A proper turkey dinner was basically off the table. He couldn't care less, though. Murphy was coming. Sliced deli meat sandwiches shared with his sister and John Murphy sounded perfect. He was thrilled.

"Bellamy...are you sure about this?"

"Of course. Murphy is great. If you just give him a chance, you'll see."

"Really, and I stress, _really_ , doubt it."

There was a knock on the door and Bellamy flashed her a wide smile. "You'll see," he echoed as he made his way over to the door and tugged it open.

Murphy was dressed oddly and carrying something atop his outstretched arms. On the three occasions that Bellamy had seen him he had been wearing the same outfit. A black jacket with weird red spikes on one shoulder, a grey t-shirt, and black pants. But now he was wearing a sweater, an honest to God sweater, and Bellamy couldn't help but think he looked kind of adorable in it. It was green and everything.

He motioned for him to come inside and he managed to do so with minimal hesitancy. Octavia was nowhere to be seen, which was just as well. Bellamy knew that it would take a bit of time for them to become acclimated with each other.

"Is that a pie tin?" Bellamy questioned, gesturing at the metallic object in Murphy's arms.

Murphy's cheeks grew rosy as he nodded his head. "I..."

"You baked it!?" Bellamy asked in disbelief.

Murphy slowly nodded his head again. "Yeah, but you don't have to eat it. I promise there's no cockroaches in it, though. Despite the state of my apartment..."

"Appetizing."

Murphy grinned at him, though he was clearly still on guard. Bellamy couldn't blame him. He hadn't exactly had a pleasant time last time he'd come to their house. Bellamy swore to himself that this time around would go much smoother, though. He'd make sure of it.

"I will eat it, Murphy. I absolutely have to know what a pie baked by you tastes like."

"Why do I feel like you're doubting my mad skills?"

"Couldn't possibly imagine."

"I could give Ramsey a run, Bellamy."

"I'm sure." They strolled into the kitchen and Bellamy snagged the pie away from Murphy and gently placed it inside of the fridge. He couldn't believe Murphy. _Baking a pie._ And he really did look adorable in that sweater. "O!" he yelled, finally having had enough of his sister's truancy. "Get a move on!"

"Coming!"

Murphy sat down at the table and began anxiously picking at the wood. Bellamy nibbled his bottom lip before whispering, "It'll be fine, Murph. She's not going to be like she's been. I promise."

"You promise a lot of shit, Bell."

"Yes, but have I broken any of them?"

"Not yet."

"Exactly."

Octavia tip-toed into the kitchen, the wary expression on her face nearly identical to the one on Murphy's. She took a seat. The farthest one from their guest. _Naturally_. "Hey..." she mumbled, glancing at Murphy. At least she was making some semblance of an effort. For Bellamy's sake, of course. But still.

"Hey, Blake," Murphy whispered back, shier than Bellamy had ever seen him.

"Octavia."

"Right, sorry."

Octavia's eyebrows rose and her eyes flickered to meet Bellamy's, a silent question carried within them. Bellamy just smiled at her. A told you so sort of smile. Her brows furrowed at him, but eventually she turned her gaze back onto Murphy and whispered, "Murphy, listen...I'm really sorry about my birthday. You...you didn't deserve all that."

Murphy looked terribly caught off guard as his lips shifted into a small smile and he nodded his head at her. "Thanks. I'm...I'm sorry too."

Bellamy grinned at the pair of them, suddenly seized by a fierce tremor of overwhelming adoration. He hadn't realized quite how much he wanted this, but the sudden amicability between Murphy and his sister was such an incredible relief. "Thank God," he whispered, accidentally catching the attention of both teenagers.

"Oh, Bell," Octavia mumbled, "You sap."

Murphy laughed and said, "She's right. You really are such a sap."

"I'm just happy. If being happy makes me a sap, then I'm fine with that." And he was. He hadn't celebrated Thanksgiving for the last couple of years. Hadn't felt like he had much to celebrate. He'd been thankful for one thing and one thing only, but now he had two, and he felt like the doubling of his list was something that was definitely worthy of celebration.

They ate. It wasn't the typical feast, nothing fancy or flavorful. It wasn't about the food, though. It was all about the company. All about the fact that he was rapidly beginning to care about Murphy more than he had cared about anything, save for Octavia, in a really long time. He was glad he had come. More than glad, really.

It was late once they finished eating. So late that Bellamy knew he was going to be giving Murphy a ride home again. Which he was fine with, of course. In all honesty, their closest bonding moments had all taken place on the drive to North Commons, so he didn't mind if history repeated itself.

There was one thing left to do before he'd let any of them call it a night, though.

"I think that it's time for pie."

Murphy seemed more than a tad uncomfortable with the suggestion, so Bellamy clapped him on the back as he stood up to retrieve said pie and three sets of clean plates and forks. "Where'd the pie come from?" Octavia asked, causing Murphy to nervously shift his weight on the seat beneath him.

"Murphy."

Octavia's eyes widened and her mouth fell open before it curled into a grin. "Damn, this is weird. I don't think anyone will even believe me if I tell them that I spent my Thanksgiving eating a pie made by _John Murphy_."

Bellamy sighed and shook his head at his sister. He wanted to tell her to stop throwing his first name around all the time, but he didn't want to embarrass Murphy by doing so, even though he could tell that just the sound of it alone was enough to make the kid flinch. He could understand why. John was the boy whose mother had told him that he'd murdered his father. The boy that Murphy wanted to leave far behind him.

Bellamy set the pie down on the center of the table. He carefully took the foil off the top of it. It was pumpkin and it looked beyond delicious. Murphy seemed to hold his breath as Bellamy cut into it. There was nothing quite like watching the outwardly callous delinquent silently fret over whether the siblings would enjoy the pie that he had baked for them. Nothing had ever seemed quite so endearing.

Soon a slice was resting upon each of the three plates and Bellamy was once again seated with a fork in his hand. Octavia was the first to take a bite. "Oh my God," she hissed, pure bliss shining through in her eyes.

Bellamy had never wanted to taste anything so badly in his life after that. He stuck a large forkful into his mouth and instantly fell in love with the confectionary. "Murphy, you weren't kidding. This is amazing. No joke."

Murphy smiled around the fork in his mouth and shrugged his shoulders, seemingly embarrassed by the praise. "What can I say, it's just one of my few redeeming qualities."

Octavia snorted and shook her head in amusement. "Honestly astounded. Who would've guessed that you actually know your way around a kitchen?"

"Well, to be fair, my kitchen _is_ really small."

* * *

They were in his Honda. Just him and Murphy again. Octavia had claimed that she was going to catch up on a math assignment, but Bellamy suspected that she would probably just scroll through Instagram the entire time that he was gone. Oh, well. It was still a holiday, and that meant she could do whatever the hell she wanted to as far as her brother was concerned.

"So, how'd you learn to cook?"

"Foster parent. Best house I stayed at. She taught me some stuff and I kept doing it after, whenever I got the chance, as a hobby. Though, I nearly got myself killed for it once."

"Killed for cooking?"

"Worst foster parent." Murphy snickered and stared out the window at the darkened buildings as they passed them by. "I was fifteen, accidentally made a huge fucking mess. Flour was everywhere and this guy, he woke up in the middle of the night to find me covered in the shit, I thought it was hilarious. _Until it wasn't_."

Bellamy knew better than to ask what had happened. He was familiar with the pattern of Murphy's stories by now. The frequently abrupt endings and downplayed details. Murphy told him only what he was comfortable with telling him, and Bellamy was fine with that. He would never ask for more than that. He took his right hand off the steering wheel and reached it out to his side, resting it on Murphy's arm and giving his bicep a gentle squeeze.

"I had fun tonight," he whispered.

"I guess I did too."

"You guess, huh?"

"I guess." Murphy looked away from the window and grinned cockily at him. "You know I'm way too cool to actually admit to having fun."

"Of course." Bellamy smiled back at him as his hand slid down his arm before he reluctantly pulled it away and placed it back on the wheel. His heart was thudding in his chest so violently that he was worried Murphy could hear it. "Now...now you don't have to worry about coming over anymore. I think you've won Octavia over. Probably thanks to the pie."

Murphy laughed and nodded his head. "Don't count on me being your personal chef."

"Oh come on, if I'm your chauffeur, then you're my chef."

"Ah, but I've never actually asked you for a ride anywhere. Not my fault you keep volunteering."

"It is your fault, because if I didn't drive you then I'd be too damn worried to get any sleep."

"Seriously?"

"What, you want to go ahead and tell me I'm a sap again? I know it's stupid and that you're an adult, but the thought of you walking home in the dark...I just don't like it."

Murphy didn't say anything for a very long time, and Bellamy felt too unsure of himself to say anything more, either. He wondered if his words had crossed some sort of line. If he'd wandered into the territory of someone who was far too concerned about someone that they had only known for a few weeks. Finally, just as they pulled into the parking lot of North Commons, Murphy whispered, "Thank you, Bell. It is stupid...you don't need to worry, but...it helps to know that you do."

Bellamy parked the car and shifted over to face him. A dim beam of light shone through from a distant streetlamp and made Murphy's crisp blue eyes seem to glisten in the darkness. Bellamy's heart began to beat faster despite himself, even as he willed it to shut up and slow down. "Well I do. I think that...you're on my mind more than you should be."

Murphy's brightened eyes expanded as his lips quirked upwards. "Am I?" He sounded vulnerable, like Bellamy's words would make or break him. It was a lot of pressure, but he found that he didn't mind it. He wanted to make Murphy. To be his world.

"Unfortunately." Bellamy had to make the mood lighter, had to get back to their signature taunting and teasing, because if he didn't, then he was scared that his heart would burst and he would destroy the trust that he had worked so hard to earn.

Murphy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You know you love me."

Bellamy's breath hitched and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He did. Shit. Oh shit. He did. He really, really did. He knew that he did, but he wished that he didn't, because he shouldn't feel like this. He was meant to be Murphy's emotional crutch, not some older man desperately vying for his affection. That wasn't how he wanted it to be. He had to stop this from spiraling any further. Had to rein himself back in. So he too rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah right," as he did his very best to keep his voice from shaking.

Murphy smiled and set his hand down on the door handle. "Goodnight, Bellamy."

"Goodnight, Murphy."

* * *

The next day, Octavia didn't have school, but Bellamy did have work. She came down while he was hurriedly shoveling a bowl of cereal into his mouth and hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, uncertainty in her eyes. "You were right," she stated, as she finally seemed to make up her mind and took a step nearer to him.

"I'm always right, but what particular instance are you referring to?" Bellamy finished off the bowl and set his spoon down with a hollow clang.

"Murphy."

"Oh. Yeah. Told you." He hastily put his empty dishes in the dishwasher and grabbed his shoes from the corner of the room.

"He's not half bad."

"I know," he said, sitting back down at the table so that he could slip his boots on.

"At least not anymore. I think that's thanks to you. He's become tolerable." Octavia smiled at him before she turned away and started rifling through the fridge.

"Yeah, well...I'm just glad that you two got along."

She sighed and gave up on the sorry contents of the fridge, turning back around to snag an apple off of the fruit bowl on the counter. She bit into it with a crunch and shrugged her shoulders. "Wasn't all that difficult. Surprisingly enough."

Bellamy grinned at her and nodded his head. "Told you it wouldn't be. Now you'll be nice to him at school right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Good girl."

"Shut up."

He ignored her and hurried towards the front door, pulling it open before he spun around to shoot her one last overgrown smile. "Love you, O. See you when I get home tonight."

"Love you too, Bell."

* * *

Time passed, and Bellamy wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He wanted to text Murphy, badly. He wanted them to become more of a constant fixture in each other's lives, but he was afraid of what that would mean. Afraid that he was becoming far too close to him far too fast. So time passed. And he didn't text him.

Then again, Murphy didn't text him either. But he'd never been the one to initiate things between them, and Bellamy had never expected him to. Doing so would go against Murphy's strict policy of self-reliance. It would make him vulnerable, and Bellamy couldn't ask that of him.

So two weeks passed without any contact, and Bellamy started to hate himself for it.

Then, one day, out of the blue, he finally got a text.

 **Saturday, December 8**

 _ **9:16 PM:**_ _Ur an asshole_

 _ **9:16 PM:**_ _Why's that, Murphy?_

 _ **9:17 PM:**_ _U know y_

 _ **9:18 PM:**_ _Humor me_

 _ **9:18 PM:**_ _U lied_

 _ **9:19 PM:**_ _About what?_

And that had been it. Murphy hadn't texted him back after that.

So Bellamy had shown up at his apartment unannounced the next day. It was cold, the kind that seeped down into his bones, and he shivered with it as he pounded his fist against Murphy's door, praying that he would be there, and that he would answer. It was Sunday morning, so he figured that his odds were fairly decent.

Finally, just after his fingers had started to become numb and he had considered tucking tail and heading back home, the door had opened. Just a crack, but still. Murphy stared at him through the narrow slit, irritation blending with something like relief in his eyes. "What?"

"Can I come in, it's freezing." Bellamy rubbed his icy hands together, hoping that it made him seem a bit more pitiful.

The door swung open fully and Murphy stepped aside to let him enter. The door flew closed behind him and the apartment instantly became far darker. "What are you doing here, Bellamy?" Murphy was clearly trying to sound annoyed, but he didn't seem to have the heart to pull it off properly.

"Obviously I wanted to see you."

"Right, obviously." Murphy rolled his eyes before he spun away from him and walked deeper into his apartment.

Bellamy sighed and bit at his bottom lip, trying to figure out what he could say that would get Murphy to stop being peeved at him. He glanced around the dimly lit flat and found that it was exactly as he had expected it to be. Scarcely furnished, kind of a giant mess, and altogether extremely depressing. There were water stains on the walls, clothes piled on the ground, and a bed where he thought a couch really ought to be. The whole thing was just one tiny room, save for a door in the corner that he assumed must lead to the bathroom. _Hopefully_. He stared at the miniscule kitchen with awe and wondered how the hell Murphy could cook anything in there. And worst of all, as far as he could tell, there wasn't even a television in the place.

"Sure you didn't just come over so you could judge my apartment, asshole?"

Bellamy shook himself out of his reverie and braved meeting Murphy's furious eyes. "Sorry," he whispered, guiltily rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Tell me something, Bellamy," Murphy finally said after a moment of uncomfortable silence, "If I hadn't texted you yesterday would you ever have even remembered that I exist?"

Bellamy's brows furrowed together and he tilted his head to the side in genuine confusion. He had never thought that he could really be mad at Murphy, but he was closer now than he had ever been before. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You know you didn't talk to me for two weeks either, friendships are supposed to go both ways."

"Whatever. Just get out. I don't...I don't want you here."

Bellamy arched his eyebrows together and narrowed his eyes drastically as he rapidly shook his head back and forth. "No, you push me away now and you need to know that I won't come back."

Murphy laughed hollowly and something half-grimace, half-grin crossed over his features. "I know. Of course you won't."

And then Bellamy felt guilty again. Sick with it. He stepped forward, hands outstretched and fingers spread apart, doing his best to placate Murphy so that he could get close enough to...He wrapped his arms around him and pressed one of his hands against the back of his skull, pushing his face against his chest in a way that wasn't altogether gentle. He felt aggressively protective as Murphy's slight form began to quiver in his hold. "I didn't mean that, Murph. I've missed you...like a lot, I'm just...Well to be honest we're both shit at this friendship thing, I think. I didn't text you, because I feel like I care about you too much, and for some reason that scares me."

"I don't want to lose anyone else," Murphy whispered against his chest, his words slightly muffled and barely audible. "You can't be in my life if there's any chance of you deciding that you'd rather not be."

"Don't worry about that," Bellamy began to run his fingers through Murphy's tangled hair and used his other hand to prop Murphy's chin up so that they could see each other properly, "I want to be. I know that I definitely want to be."

"Well then...," Murphy stepped out of his grasp and Bellamy instantly grieved for the loss of contact and warmth. "I'm sorry for being such a needy little shit."

"Damn, Murphy, if you knew how badly I want you to need me." The words sounded strange, they really did. He shouldn't have said them. The longing they carried was far too flagrant for him to feel like he had been left standing on solid ground. But Murphy was smiling at him again, so he couldn't find it within himself to fully regret saying them.

"How could I live without my chauffeur?"

Bellamy laughed and his heart filled with warmth enough to replace that of Murphy's tangible touch. "Don't know. Probably be about as difficult as me trying to manage without my chef."


	4. The Houseguest

Octavia had met a guy. On Tinder. _Octavia had met a guy on Tinder._ And, needless to say, Bellamy did not approve of his baby sister dating a man who was even older than he was and who had muscles enough to rival Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson.

And, _needless to say_ , it did not make matters any better that it turned out she had already been dating him for an entire month before she decided that maybe she'd better go ahead and tell her brother. Bellamy was pissed. He wanted to forbid her from seeing him, but he had never really been able to prevent Octavia from doing what she wanted to do, so he was at an infuriating dead-end.

"I have to meet him," he told her immediately after so belatedly learning of his existence.

"Of course, yeah, I know." Octavia's tone was softer than usual, clearly aware that she was treading on dangerous ground.

So he met him. And damn it, he was nice and chivalrous and suspiciously perfect. Bellamy hated him with a burning passion. But nothing he said, nothing he did, could stop his and Octavia's so-called love. It was a nightmare. Truly.

Then she said words that Bellamy had wished to never hear; words that he feared would haunt him for an eternity.

"Hey, Bell, I'm going to spend Christmas Eve with Lincoln, 'kay?"

"What? No, O, I have to work Christmas day, you know that. Christmas Eve was supposed to be..."

"I know, but Lincoln is spending Christmas day with his family and I just really want to have a day to celebrate with him."

"But you don't care about celebrating with me anymore?"

And thus he had discovered that his sister was all grown up. He wanted to spend the day locked in his bedroom sobbing, he really did. So he texted Murphy.

 **Wednesday, December 12**

 _ **8:36 AM:**_ _Christmas Eve_

 _ **9:00 AM:**_ _K. Time?_

 _ **9:01 AM:**_ _2?_

 _ **9:02 AM:**_ _B there. C U then._

 _ **9:02 AM:**_ _Sweet. C U_

And then he left for work.

* * *

Octavia was still hanging around the house when Murphy turned up on their porch. She had plans with Lincoln in a few hours, but until then she had seemingly decided to grace her brother with her presence. Neither she nor Murphy seemed surprised to see the other. In fact, when Octavia answered the door and found Murphy standing outside with a small gift bag in one hand and tinted Tupperware in the other, she just smiled at him and motioned for him to come inside.

Murphy smiled back at her before his eyes surveyed the living room, clearly searching for Bellamy. Once he found him, his smile grew. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, Bellamy waved at him and stepped forward to relieve him of the Tupperware and bag.

"Did you get me a present, Murphy?" he questioned, his voice pitched with a note of playful teasing.

"Don't expect much. You know I'm broke as shit."

"It's the thought that counts."

Octavia followed the pair of them into the dining room and gazed longingly at the Tupperware in Bellamy's hands. "Are those cookies?"

"Yeah."

"I know that Lincoln's taking me out to a fancy restaurant tonight and I should _really_ save my appetite, but god, Bellamy, hurry up and crack open that Tupperware and give me a damn cookie."

Bellamy chuckled as he set it down on the table and did just that. Of course, once the Tupperware was open and the soft, gooey chocolate wonders were unveiled, Bellamy couldn't help himself either.

Octavia wound up eating more than just the one and Bellamy lost count after his sixth. Murphy simply took a seat and watched the two of them, looking highly amused by their sudden voraciousness. Finally Bellamy sealed the remaining cookies back up and sat down next to him. Octavia, on the other hand, opted for sitting on top of the table, which was a bit unsanitary in his opinion, but Murphy seemed as though he couldn't've cared less.

"Hey, Merry Christmas Eve, Murph," Bellamy whispered, leaning in near to Murphy's ear, his breath so close that a few strands of Murphy's hair shifted with its force.

"You too, Bell."

Octavia was staring down at them with an odd expression on her face and a question in her eyes. Bellamy felt uncomfortable beneath her scrutiny and shifted away from Murphy until her features softened back up. He resented her for a moment for robbing him of that lovely proximity, though.

A vibration reverberated through the wood of the table and Octavia reached into her back pocket to retrieve her phone, her eyes lighting up the second that the screen did. "Lincoln's waiting outside, he wants to meet up earlier so that we can spend more time together." She pressed her phone against her chest like the lovesick school-girl that she had regretfully become, and glanced over at Bellamy with big eyes and an expectant gaze.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead, I guess..."

She smiled at him and gleefully hopped off the table top. "Okay. Love you, big bro. Bye, Murphy. Have fun, you two!" she called as she rushed out of the room and fled the house, the door banging shut in her wake.

Bellamy sighed as he slowly rose to his feet and shook his head at Murphy like the put-out parent that he so frequently felt he was. "Who's Lincoln?" Murphy asked, following Bellamy's example and coming to his feet.

"Her boyfriend. Her boyfriend that she met online who's just _way_ too old for her."

Murphy tried and failed to stifle a grin. "How old?"

"I don't even know, older than me, Murphy. Older than me."

Murphy's eyes widened and his grin grew. "Shit, well, then he must just be fucking ancient."

Bellamy laughed and rolled his shoulders back, releasing stress that he hadn't even realized he was holding in them. Octavia would be fine, Lincoln was a good guy. Maybe if he repeated it in his head often enough it would become a comforting mantra of peace and tranquility. _One could hope._

But at the moment he wasn't really all that worried about Octavia, anyway. His brain was full to the brim with Murphy. Just like it always was when they were in the same room. Hell, just like it usually was even when they _weren't_ in the same room.

"Actually, how old are you?" Murphy was suddenly asking, tugging Bellamy's attention back onto the boy that was standing right in front of him rather than his unsteady emotions surrounding said boy.

"Twenty-four."

"Ugh."

"Ugh?"

"You're six years older than me."

"Your point?"

"I have no idea what my point is."

"Thought not."

Then they were grinning at each other and Bellamy's fingers were itching to find themselves knotted up in those loose brown locks again. _Six years_. And, Murphy was barely legal. Then again, that didn't seem to be much of a deterrent for Lincoln, so Bellamy wondered why he was getting so caught up in it. No. It wasn't that. It was so much more than that. It was the danger of losing their friendship. The fact that the sorry odds stated that Murphy was very probably straight as a board and would want nothing to do with him in that way. The thought was far from pleasing, but there was nothing that he could do about it.

"So. What...what are we going to do all day?" Murphy seemed vaguely uneasy and Bellamy hurriedly set a hand down on his shoulder, grabbing the gift bag off of the table as he shoved him back towards the living room.

"First, presents!"

"Thought you were _twenty_ -four, not four. Santa stopping by later? You excited?"

"Oh, shut up, Murphy," Bellamy lightheartedly growled as he shoved his hand against Murphy's chest, causing him to tumble back onto the loveseat and stare up at him with startled eyes. He carefully set the gift bag on one of the armrests before he quickly slipped away to open the coat closet in the corner of the room and reached down to snag the poorly wrapped box within. He then sat down next to Murphy, resting the present on his own lap for a moment before he plopped it down onto Murphy's. He picked up the bag from the armrest next to him and gazed down at it curiously. He didn't give a shit what was inside of it, the fact that it existed at all, that Murphy was giving him something, _anything_ , was enough to send a spark of happiness straight through to his heart.

Murphy was eyeing him uncertainly, holding the box close to his stomach with one hand and rubbing at his nose with the other. "You should go first, because I really want you to stop looking at that thing like you're actually dumb enough to think that there's something decent inside of it."

Bellamy grinned at him and ripped the sides of the bag apart, breaking through the staple holding them together. He reached down inside of it and burst out laughing. Quite frankly, he was speechless. Because the only thing he could think to say, the only words that sprung to his mind at that very moment were that he loved this boy so damn much. Just so unbearably much. His fingers curled around the tiny object in his hand and uncurled several times before he had finally composed himself enough to say, "If you don't think that this is something decent, then fuck you, Murphy, 'cause it's amazing." And then Murphy burst out laughing too, and they both couldn't quite manage to breathe properly. It was a keychain. A keychain with the words "World's Greatest Chauffer" written on it in bold red type. Bellamy had no clue where Murphy had found it, all he knew was that it was perfect. A tiny memento of the fact that there was someone like Murphy in his life. "Thank you for this."

Murphy finally managed to pull himself together and he nodded his head and mumbled, "Yeah, sure," before he ripped apart the green wrapping paper covering the box in his lap. Bellamy could see it in his eyes the second that it dawned on him what it was and their gazes met with identically crooked grins as Murphy affectionately caressed the cover with his hand. "Thank you, Bellamy." Naturally, it was a cookbook. A really great one at that. _Supposedly_. Bellamy had searched the web and done his research. Probably far more research than was strictly necessary for the purchase of a cookbook, but he hadn't wanted to accidentally buy Murphy something subpar or shitty. That simply wouldn't do.

It was hard for Bellamy to sit still while Murphy was flicking through the pages of the book and looking down at it so very lovingly. It occurred to him that it was likely the first gift that anyone had given him in far too lengthy of a time. Nope. Bellamy definitely couldn't sit still with that thought occupying his headspace, so he rushed to his feet and mumbled something about popcorn before he retreated into the kitchen.

When he returned with a giant bowl of over-buttered popcorn in his hands and sat back down on the loveseat, Murphy was still skimming through the recipes. Bellamy smiled at him, before he realized that the remote was on the television stand and he had to stand back up to retrieve it. When he once again took his seat, Murphy set the book aside, kicked his feet up onto the couch, and rested his back against him like he was a pillow. It was close enough to cuddling, that Bellamy's hands shook as he pressed the button to turn the TV on. "What do you want to watch?" he questioned, trying extremely hard to keep his voice from shaking, as well.

"Don't care. Whatever."

"What a helpful suggestion."

Murphy just laughed and they somehow wound up watching _I Am Legend._ It didn't seem very festive to Bellamy, but Murphy seemed to enjoy it, and really that was all that mattered. After that it was only four o'clock and Bellamy was too stuffed full of popcorn and cookies to even consider getting up to do something else. Besides, Murphy's head had come down to rest atop his shoulder sometime around the death of the onscreen dog, and there was no way he was going to voluntarily put a stop to that. So they started watching _Breaking Bad_. Even though Bellamy had already watched it while it was airing. Murphy hadn't seen it yet, and really that was all that mattered.

They got through the first couple of episodes before Murphy had to go to the bathroom. Bellamy's shoulder felt numb and empty while he was gone. When he returned it was almost six and as he sat back down on the sofa, his body once again stretching back to rest against Bellamy's, Bellamy heard the question, "You want to stay here tonight?" lazily slip out from between his own lips.

Murphy nodded against Bellamy's shoulder and whispered, "Sure, why not?"

Bellamy really had to piss now too, but now that Murphy was all settled down again and agreeing to stay the night, he resigned that his bladder was just going to have to suck it up. Somehow he found the nerve to snake his arm around Murphy's abdomen. Neither of them mentioned the fact that they were now far too close for comfort, and Bellamy pushed play. Four more meth-filled episodes passed by in a blink and then Murphy's eyes fluttered closed and Bellamy paused the show once more. He slowly rested his head down on Murphy's and allowed his own eyes to shut. He knew that he wasn't going to fall asleep, he wasn't even vaguely tired, as it was only eight-ish, his bladder was churning, and Murphy's weight was starting to make the left-half of his body tingle with prickles of pain. But Murphy was sleeping on him, with their heads stacked like dishware and Bellamy's arm flung around his waist. This was a holiday. A holiday of eating nothing but junk food and binge-watching television. A holiday where his sister had ditched him in favor of running off with her boyfriend. A perfect holiday, which he wouldn't alter a bit, even if given the chance to.

Eventually, though, he really was teetering dangerously on the verge of peeing himself. "Murphy," he whispered, gently combing his fingers through his hair like he had been longing to do all day.

Murphy's eyes quickly battered open and he hurriedly jerked away from Bellamy, his cheeks taking on a hue of red. "Shit, did I fall asleep?"

Bellamy smiled reassuringly at him as he bobbed his head up and down. "Yeah."

"Sorry..."

"It's fine, Murph. You looked really peaceful, I'm sorry I had to wake you, but I really need to use the bathroom."

Murphy smiled back at him as he watched him stand up, stretch his locked-up joints, and leave the room.

When he returned to the living room, Murphy was lying back on the loveseat with his eyes closed and his breaths falling rhythmically. Bellamy had to smother a laugh behind his hand as he quietly crept back over to the coat closet and fetched a blanket from it. Tucking Murphy in was a priceless experience, really. He allowed himself to linger above his sleeping form for a moment, smiling down at him in a way that he hoped reflected fondness rather than yearning. Then, he made his way upstairs and tried his best to get a decent night of sleep, even as his mind wouldn't allow him to stop obsessing over the fact that Murphy was just right downstairs.

* * *

He had work, so he got up early. Not early enough, though, apparently. He sneaked down the stairs hoping that he would find Murphy still asleep on the couch, but instead he found him sitting at the dining table looking a little bit lost.

"Morning, Murphy."

"Mornin'...By the way, Octavia _did_ come home last night, in case you were wondering."

"I was wondering actually. What time?"

"Dunno. I was half-asleep and just heard her creep in and run past me, so probably pretty late."

Bellamy scowled which earned him a very unsympathetic grin from Murphy. "I officially give up," he mumbled, strolling into the kitchen and untying the bagged loaf of bread he kept by the toaster. "Toast?"

"Yeah, sure." Murphy drummed his fingers against the wooden table top as Bellamy placed two slices of bread in the slots of the toaster. "What do you give up on?"

"Octavia. It's like...I don't know, I just feel like I woke up one day and suddenly she was a full-blown adult who doesn't need or want me anymore. I think she's planning to dorm for college, so she'll probably be gone in a couple months."

"But then you can focus on yourself and stop having to be all pseudo-parent-like, sounds sweet to me."

"Spoken like an only child."

Murphy snickered and the toast burst up with a slightly startling springing sound. Bellamy started the buttering process just as it occurred to him that he was kicking his day off with more larded-up empty carbs. Oh well. He carted the plates over to the table and plopped one in front of Murphy before he sat down next to him. The air suddenly felt heavy around them and they both chewed slowly as quietly contemplative expressions froze over their features. "You're right, Bell. I don't know shit about siblings, but if it helps at all...I promise that I'm not going anywhere."

Bellamy smiled at him and dropped the last bite of toast back onto his plate before he reached his hand up to ruffle it through Murphy's soft hair. "It helps a lot."

Inexplicably, the well-intentioned gesture caused Murphy to frown and squirm uncomfortably. Bellamy awkwardly dropped his hand down onto his lap, mildly perplexed, wholly disheartened.

"I'm not...like some weird charity case that you're trying to use to fill the hole in you that Octavia's leaving, though, am I?" Murphy's voice was rough and low, laced with anxiety and not-so-subtle vulnerability.

Bellamy hurriedly shook his head, grabbing Murphy's arm and keeping his fingers wrapped loosely around it as he firmly stated, "My sister and you are in entirely different categories. I need both of you. Even if O doesn't leave for college, that wouldn't change the fact that now that I know you, Murphy, I can't imagine my life without you in it. I mean, I've been there done that, and now there's no going back."

Murphy didn't say anything for a moment, he just sat there, unblinking, with the corners of his soft pink lips perpetually on the rise. "What category am I in?" His voice was lilted again, smooth, mocking, and free of nagging insecurities.

"Assholes."

"Naturally."

Bellamy stood up and swept their dishes off of the table, turning his back to Murphy as he fled towards the kitchen, his heart in his throat. "Everyone needs an asshole in their life."

"Well, duh. Otherwise they wouldn't be able to shit and then they'd die of constipation."

"Can't have that."

"Seems like it'd be a pretty painful way to go."

Bellamy left the dishes in the sink because the dishwasher was full to bursting and he was in too much of a rush to be bothered. "You want me to drop you off on my way to work?" he asked as he turned back around to face Murphy. He received a nod so he hurriedly slipped his shoes on and herded the teen out the door.

It was routine by this point. Murphy sitting shotgun in his Honda, staring out the window, and him gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly as he tried to pretend like he didn't savor every block between his house and North Commons.

"So what are you doing after you graduate, anyway, Murphy?"

"Oh, you know, probably going to a top-ranked university, getting my doctorate, and then opening my own practice."

Bellamy rolled his eyes and tried to stifle the laughter that came through despite him. "Yeah, that's about what I expected."

Murphy glanced away from the window to shoot him a grin. "I don't even know if I'm going to graduate."

Bellamy stopped laughing instantly as he gave the steering wheel a squeeze. "You have to. Make me proud, Murph."

Murphy chuckled and breathlessly whispered, "Do my best, pop. Nah, but assuming that I do graduate, I'll probably try to use my diploma to get a marginally less shitty job, fingers crossed, and...Yeah, that's about the extent of it."

"You need to move."

"Because you're sick of me?"

"Exactly. I want at least two state-lines between us."

"But then you'd die of constipation."

"Ah, yeah, that's right. Guess you'll have to stay pretty close, after all. Dammit."

They reached North Commons then and Bellamy reluctantly parked the car, twisting over in his seat as he tried to think of the right words for them to part on this time around. He opened his mouth but immediately snapped it closed again as Murphy leaned forward in his seat and pointed up at the balcony above them. "That's my new neighbor."

Bellamy followed his finger to find a fucking gorgeous woman. Honestly, her beauty was ridiculous and it pissed him off so much that he had to grit his teeth as he forced out the words, "You have a new neighbor?"

Murphy didn't seem to notice his barely contained fury as he nodded his head and smiled infuriatingly. "Yeah. You think it's bad that _I_ live here? Look at her. I'm kind of worried, actually."

Bellamy's eyebrows scrunched together and he wrinkled his nose with thinly veiled disgust. "She'll be fine," he mumbled. "After all, you'll look after her won't you?" He tried his best to keep his voice from coming out too venomous, but he wasn't sure that he succeeded.

"Obviously. I'm chivalrous as all hell."

"Clearly."

Murphy smiled at him for a moment more before he tugged the door open and said, "Oh, and by the way, Merry Christmas, Bellamy."

For a moment, as his lips formed the words, "Merry Christmas, Murphy," Bellamy was able to block out the girl's existence entirely, but once the car door slammed shut and he watched Murphy grin as he hurriedly bounded up the stairs towards her, he forgot how to breathe. He should have pulled away right then, but instead he stayed parked there for a second more and watched the girl smile back at Murphy and hand him the cigarette that she had been puffing on. _Maybe he just liked to make himself suffer._


	5. The Sap

"Bell, why don't you date anymore? I feel like you haven't gone out with anyone since mom's death, and that's just dumb. You know I don't care if you date, right? In fact, I wish that you would."

Bellamy stiffened and briefly glanced away from the television, wishing that his sister wasn't trying to have this conversation with him. He coughed to cover his discomfort and shrugged his shoulders. "Spending an evening with some random chick just isn't my idea of a good time anymore."

Octavia cocked her head to the side as her eyebrows lifted. She gently kicked at his arm with her foot from her position on the loveseat next to him. "Oh, yeah? Tell me, Bell, what is your idea of a good time?"

"Spending time with my precious little sister."

She rolled her eyes and reached for the remote, pausing the television so that he had no choice but to meet her gaze. "That's the problem. You know I'm moving out soon. You need to get out into the world and meet people. People who aren't me. Or Murphy."

And wasn't that just it. The root of his reservations. _Murphy._

"I think that I can manage my own social life, thank you very much, O."

"Or lack thereof," she muttered beneath her breath.

He thought of Murphy standing above him on the balcony the day before, sharing a cigarette with a perfectly molded goddess and smiling at her like she was all that mattered in the world. He thought that his sister was probably right. He really ought to start dating again, if only so that he could distract himself from the pitifully hopeless crush he had on his best friend. If only so that he wouldn't keep holding out hope that one day Murphy would be his and his alone. His to hold and his to love.

Yeah. So he made an account on Tinder, because if it had worked for Octavia, then maybe it would work for him. Every time he swiped right it was a match, which was certainly a glorious ego-booster, but whenever he tried to bring himself to send a message to one of said matches, he just couldn't follow through with it. And typically whenever he got a message, no matter how beautiful the woman was who had sent it, he just ignored it. Occasionally he would force himself to reply, but after a few messages, most of which were just him lying his ass off and trying to make himself sound like a much more interesting person than he really was, he would grow tired of the pointless back and forth and ghost the girl. He wanted to feel guilty for being such a douche, but in reality he simply didn't care. None of those girls were what he wanted. Not even close.

He deleted his account a week later and uninstalled the app. It was nice to free up some space on his phone.

* * *

It was a new year. Bellamy couldn't care less, but Octavia seemed to be into it. She made resolutions about losing weight that she definitely, definitely didn't need to lose, learning self-defense, getting her grades up, getting a job, and all sorts of crap.

She suggested that Bellamy make a resolution to be more social, so he thought that he probably shouldn't mention his short-lived go at online dating to her. He promised that he'd try, though. He almost asked one of his co-workers to go see a horror flick with him; she was the sort who tried to play themselves off as being disinterested in the world around them, but Bellamy was pretty damn sure that she'd had a thing for him for a couple of years running now. He figured that it was high time that he acknowledge her feelings and schedule a date. But in the end, he didn't.

He asked Murphy to the movie and Octavia's disappointment was tangible. To be fair, he was disappointed in himself too. But the thought of spending time with Gina that he could spend with Murphy instead was simply too dismal for him to bear.

Bellamy had agreed to pick him up, as per usual. He'd thought about riding Murphy to get a license, telling him that he'd teach him, but it wouldn't change the fact that he still wouldn't be able to afford a car. And besides, Bellamy thought he'd probably wind up regretting it if Murphy gained the ability to drive himself around and stopped needing him to be his chauffeur. Octavia was saving up money to buy her first car, and her newly-established independence made him relish Murphy's growing reliance upon him. It might be a bit selfish, but as Murphy slipped into his passenger seat with a cocky smile on his face, he realized that he was more than okay with being selfish about this one thing.

"This feels a bit date-y."

Murphy's words caught him off guard and sent his mind spiraling into panic mode. "Yeah, right." Damn. He sounded like an idiot. He was normally so much better at comebacks, but his mind was too preoccupied with its all-consuming fear of having his feelings for the boy found out. Murphy was eyeing him a bit oddly, and Bellamy tapped his fingers against the wheel as he tried to think of a decent topic-changer. "Actually, Octavia has been trying to get me to date more. She's worried about my lackluster social life."

"I really want to mock you for that, but honestly, your social life still has a lot more luster than mine does."

"What about that girl?"

"What girl?"

"The neighbor girl, how are things going with her?" Bellamy sincerely hoped that his tone was casual enough that his interest in the topic wasn't blatantly obvious.

Murphy snickered and shook his head. "There are no things. Nothing is going."

God, if it wasn't a struggle to keep from breathing a massive sigh of relief. Still, he had to play it cool and ask, "Oh, why's that? Did she find out what a wannabe punk you are?"

"No, I'll have you know that she's actually pretty into me."

"Please, like I believe that."

"What can I say, the ladies love a good bad boy."

"A good bad boy? What in the paradoxical hell? Okay, but assuming that you aren't a huge liar and she actually is interested in you, what's the issue, then?"

Murphy frowned at him and noncommittally shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. She's way beautiful, right?"

"What kind of a question is that? Last time I checked you had your own set of eyes, Murph."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I think…never mind."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

Bellamy really wanted to stick to his anti-pushing policy and not try to force it out of the kid, but his curiosity was gnawing at him. This was about the girl, the girl whose smooth silhouette had been plaguing him for a week. He had to know what was stopping Murphy from pursuing her. And, if a little smidgen of hope was spurring his inquisitiveness, then so be it. "Murphy, come on. You know you love telling me your emotional baggage, just pull the Band-Aid off."

"This isn't about my damage," Murphy's voice was hard and Bellamy thought that he detected a hint of anger. He knew that he had no choice but to back off now, and was trying to swallow his disappointment, when Murphy whispered, "I just can't bring myself to like her that way, you know?"

Bellamy smiled at him and nodded his head in a visible show of understanding. "That's fine. I can't bring myself to care about anyone in that way right now, either."

Murphy frowned at him and shook his head, a breath of frustration escaping his lips. "No, Bell…it's not that. I think…I might only like guys."

Bellamy had gotten into a car crash before. He had gotten into a car crash and it had resulted in his mother's untimely demise. It hadn't been his fault, not entirely, perhaps he was going a notch above the speed limit, but the other driver had been the one who had their phone in their hand and their eyes _off_ the road. Still though, after that day he'd sworn that he would drive more carefully. Follow every rule, never speed, be a golden boy and prove that he was worthy of his badge.

So, he pulled the car to the side of the road the second that it occurred to him that his hands were shaky and sweaty and he could barely keep ahold of the wheel. He parked the car and shifted to face Murphy who was gazing at him with quivering eyes and a slightly-agape mouth.

"Bellamy...what's going on? Why the hell are you acting like this? I didn't think you'd freak out this much…I thought you'd understand. Guess I was wrong, huh?"

Bellamy frantically shook his head and reached his hand out to rest it on Murphy's lap. "No, Murphy, I do understand. I promise, I understand. Perfectly."

Murphy fell silent, his mouth snapping closed and his eyes widening. Bellamy couldn't move, he was suspended in gaffa and absolutely terrified that if he so much as breathed, this moment would disappear and he would be left with nothing to show for it but an awful misunderstanding and grinded-up hopes.

They sat there inert for far too long, studying each other, caught at a crossroads. Bellamy was waiting for Murphy to do something, to make a move, and he thought, prayed, that Murphy was waiting for him to do the same. The stalemate couldn't last forever, though. No matter how afraid Bellamy was of facing the next moment, he still had to allow it to come.

He leaned forward ever-so-slightly, prepared to take his sweet time and prolong the lifespan of his yearning. He didn't get the chance, though. Murphy grabbed a fistful of his curly hair, employing more speed and fervor than Bellamy would have ever been able to muster, and tugged his head down until they were a breath's width apart. Bellamy took it from there and hesitantly touched his lips to Murphy's.

It was gentle. Much gentler than Bellamy had thought that it would be. He had imagined hungry desperation and wandering hands. He had pictured irrepressible abandon and all-consuming passion. But instead, they both eased into it. Slow and hesitant, he was incapable of accepting that his fantasies had so readily seeped into his reality. He felt like he was treading on ice, gorgeous as it reflected the soft rays of the winter sun, but liable to crack beneath his feet if he made too many sudden movements.

Murphy nipped at his bottom lip and Bellamy parted his mouth open to allow his tongue to slip inside of it. And then the dam broke and he wanted more. He wanted everything, and if the ice shattered beneath him then he'd sink into the biting water and let it engulf him till he became numb from its touch. He had no more heart for trepidation, his senses were alight with the contact and the ache he had been expecting from the start swept over him, unrelenting in its intensity. Never before had he wanted someone quite so terribly, to the point where he would really sooner call it a need than a passing desire.

He snaked his hands up to wrap beneath Murphy's jaw, holding his soft skin in his hands and coaxing him to deepen into the kiss. He elicited a moan from the younger boy and the sound of it was enough to reassure him that he wouldn't wake up. That this was real and that it was truly Murphy that he was clinging to and savoring.

Oxygen was just a distant memory by the time he finally had to pull away, such an insignificant little trifle in the grand scheme of his adoration. Murphy was panting, with dilated pupils and billowy lips. "Bell...," he finally whispered, the word falling heavy in the aftermath of their soundless combustion.

Bellamy closed his eyes, trying in vain to catch his breath and get his heart back into working order. He felt his own swollen lips jerk upwards as he rubbed circles on Murphy's cheeks with the smooth pads of his thumbs. "Don't want to push you, but your apartment?" He snapped his eyes open and dropped his hands just in time to see Murphy hurriedly nod his head up and down.

"No pushing necessary."

And if Bellamy drove a few miles above the speed limit, then really, who could blame him?

It didn't take long before they were parked back outside of North Commons, their plans for the night having taken a wildly unexpected, miracle of a turn. Bellamy had never thought that having unused movie tickets burning a hole in the back pocket of his jeans could make him so inebriated with happiness. He rushed out of the car and up the stairs to the balcony like a man racing towards paradise rather than the world's shittiest apartment building. But Murphy followed right after him, and it helped to know that heaven was only a step behind.

The second that Murphy unlocked the door and they both made their way inside he reached for Murphy's hand, entwined their fingers together, and allowed an overjoyed, perhaps slightly asinine smile to slip over his features. He tightened his grip as he tugged him deeper into the room and back over to the tiny, mussed-up twin bed in the corner.

He sat down on top of it and wrapped his arms around Murphy's waist once he came close enough to do so. He gingerly squeezed and chuckled softly as he caused Murphy to lose his balance and come tumbling down on top of him. His back hit the mattress and Murphy pushed himself up off of him, pressing his hands against Bellamy's chest with just enough weight to momentarily take his breath away. But then he was on his knees, straddling Bellamy and grinning down at him with playful hunger in his expansively blue eyes.

Bellamy grinned back up at him as he fingered the hem of his t-shirt and gestured for Murphy to take it off. He did so in one swift motion before he leaned down and forced Bellamy out of his top, as well. The cold air of the apartment was a shock to his system, but Murphy's fingers skimming gently along his collarbone and the bare skin of torso was what really drew out a shiver. He reached up to wrap one hand around the back of Murphy's neck and pulled him in close until their lips were once again firmly locked together in a manner that made him wish that there was no key.

Soon his hands were exploring the taut muscles adorning Murphy's abdomen and chest as his tongue mapped out the deepest crevices of his warm, sweet mouth. He ignored the faint, pink-tinted scars lacing throughout his pale, porcelain skin. His brain refused to acknowledge a history of pain when faced with a present of pure pleasure.

"You're so damn perfect," Murphy whispered as they reluctantly broke away from each other for one of their annual breathing breaks. His breath was hot against Bellamy's ear and his words sounded like the honey-suckled heralding of an angel.

He smiled listlessly, his fingers wandering farther down than he had previously been permitting them to venture. "Maybe, but you're semi-decent, yourself."

Murphy laughed and shook his head, his unkempt hair flicking forward to curtain over his forehead. His hands slid down his own stomach until they met Bellamy's and he pushed them aside so that he could tug apart the buttons of his own jeans. "I think I can earn myself higher praise than that." He slipped his pants down until they bunched up at his knees and then he shifted to kick them off of him and onto the floor. Bellamy hurriedly began working on undoing the buttons of his own jeans, but anticipation caused his hands to shake, making the task exponentially harder. Finally he caught up to Murphy, though, and grabbed his shoulders so that he could knock him over onto the bed and shifted until he was on top of him. There would be no more waiting. His breath had been bated long enough.

* * *

The bed was really too small for two people, in all honesty. Their limbs where flailed over each other to the point where Bellamy could hardly distinguish where Murphy's body started and his own body ended. He was lying on his stomach his arms propped up on the pillow with his head resting atop his palms. He gazed over at Murphy, content to watch him and brush his hair away from his face every other minute. Neither of them were asleep, but they were both past the point of exhaustion and it was lovely to just be able to languish in one another's comforting presence.

A lazy smile came to Murphy's lips as he met his gaze and he softly mumbled, "We should do that again sometime."

Bellamy laughed and nodded his head as he once again reached his fingers out to absentmindedly run them through Murphy's hair. "You know, I've been wanting this for a long time."

"Have you?" Murphy's eyebrows lifted as his smile faded away in favor of something deeper.

"I thought that I was being an idiot, holding out hope that it would ever happen."

Murphy shook his head, rustling it between the pillow and Bellamy's hand. "You _were_ being an idiot. You shouldn't have held out hope and you should have just fucking kissed me already."

Bellamy chuckled and rolled onto his back so that he could stare up at the ceiling and rest his hands on his bare stomach. "I didn't think you felt the same way."

"Thought I was pretty obvious."

"Not obvious enough."

"Because you're oblivious."

"Far from it. But it was too risky. If I kissed you and you weren't into it? Nah, I couldn't've dealt with that."

"Reward not worth the risk?"

"Reward too fucking precious to risk. Platonic Murphy is better than no Murphy, the way I saw it."

Murphy crawled closer to him and hovered above him for a moment, their eyes holding to one another's, until he leaned down and chastely pecked their lips together. "Well, congrats, you get noxiously smitten Murphy, you lucky bastard."

"Couldn't ask for more," Bellamy whispered, craning up to touch his lips to his cheek.

"Sap," Murphy muttered as he flopped back onto the bed and disappeared from Bellamy's field of vision.

"Asshole." Bellamy stretched his arms up above him and yawned before he forced himself into an upright position. "I need to get home. Octavia's already going to know something's up."

Murphy sat up next to him, grinning widely. "Damn, I want to see her face when she figures it out."

"No way. I can't even imagine it."

"I'd whine about the fact that you're ashamed of me, but hell if you don't have the right to be."

"Not ashamed of you, ya melodramatic teenager, I'm just not especially looking forward to dealing with O making weird assumptions and acting all freaked out that I slept with one of her classmates."

"Understandable. Your sister can be super..."

"Think carefully before you finish that sentence."

"Awesome. She's just the greatest, really."

"Thought so."

Then Bellamy hastily squirmed out of the bed and into his sloppily discarded clothing. He knew that it was later than it had any right to be, and that he really was going to have a mess on his hands if he didn't speed things along. But dammit, he didn't want to leave.

Once he was fully dressed he leaned over the bed and kissed Murphy one last time, trying to savor the taste of his lips so that it would stay with him until they were together again. "Goodnight, Murphy. See you soon."

"Alright, later, Bell."

And then he was out the door, because if he stayed any longer than he really would never be able to leave. Stuck there like the land of lotus eaters, forgetting all else in the world but the intoxicating taste of John Murphy.

* * *

"Oh, look who the cat dragged in. You know you had me worried, Bellamy."

Bellamy rolled his eyes and slammed the front door closed behind him. "Please, like you don't stay out late with Lincoln all the time."

"Fair enough, but when I go out with my boyfriend it's kinda in the fine print that I'm going to be out past midnight. I don't really think the same rules apply with you and Murphy."

Bellamy couldn't help but, somewhat bitterly, think that they should. That it was stupid that he was trying to hide something that made him so deliriously happy from the person that he cared about most in the world. She should know, right? She was his sister and their relationship was built of mutual trust and honesty. He'd been pissed off when he'd found out she'd been sneaking about with a secret boyfriend for a month, so it'd really be a shame if he started doing the exact same thing now.

"Whatever you say, O. I'm tired as hell, so just...goodnight."

And that was that. Because he wasn't ashamed of Murphy and he didn't want to keep secrets from his sister, but the words turned to knots in his chest and chocked him till his tongue was immobile. Some truths took time.

He took the stairs two at a time and the second that he slipped into bed he was swept up by a blissful slumber and the thought that, as unimaginably wonderful as today had been, he knew that there were even better days to come.


	6. The Neighbor

Bellamy had been working late. It'd been impossibly dark outside and he'd wanted nothing more than to just go home and get some much needed rest. But then a call had come through. A call from North Commons.

As he drove to meet his fellow officers at the scene he tried to tell himself that he was being a hundred times too hasty. North Commons was fairly large and crowded, there were drug-dealers, ex-cons, con-men, and car thieves living there. The chances of this stupid little misconduct having anything to do with Murphy were slim.

And the fact that there was a body? Well that was unfortunate, but all that it meant was that he would definitely be sweeping Murphy up, taking him back home, and never allowing him to spend another night in that damn den of iniquity.

" _Code four for now."_

" _Copy. I'm en route."_

" _Code eleven."_

He was the second car on the scene. The flashing lights and buzz of his radio were comforting and familiar to him. It was enough to make him calm down for the moment and try to act professional. That was, until he stepped out of his vehicle and glanced up at the balcony to which he had become so accustomed. There was one door wide open up there. It just had to be that one door that was open, didn't it? His stomach twisted with anxiety and his own heartbeat began to echo so loudly in his head that it was difficult for him to focus on anything else.

"Officer Blake." Deputy Chief Shumway greeted him with a curt nod before he walked on past him with the words, "Stand by."

Bellamy didn't want to stand by though, couldn't even stand still. He surveyed the scene around him from his current position, trying his best to hold his ground and be obedient, even as his hands began to shake and his breath caught in his throat.

Maybe he could just sneak upstairs, pretend that he'd misunderstood his orders. Perhaps he'd get lectured for his incompetency, but honestly, he couldn't care less. He was half-past desperate to see inside of that room. The room where only two nights prior he had been curled up next to the man of dreams, running his fingers through his hair and promising to see him soon. That apartment was special to him now, shitty as it was. It was Murphy's home and it was meant to be a sanctuary for their affections, not a fucking crime scene.

He hurried up the stairs, hoping that no one had eyes on him. He managed to get up without a hitch and soon he was inside of room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the twin bed. Images of Murphy's smooth skin beneath his fingers and Murphy's lips quirking up into a grin as he gazed up at him with adoration in his eyes exploded through his skull like a jackhammer. The sheets they had gotten tangled up in as they pressed their bodies together and interlocked their limbs had been dyed crimson. There was so much blood. His trembling hand came up to clap over his mouth as he felt his eyes begin to water.

The one consolation: it definitely wasn't Murphy's blood.

There was a body on the bed. A girl. _That girl._ The one that Murphy had said he was worried about, that he had told Bellamy he was going to look after. The one that was lying dead on his bed in a massive pool of her own blood.

This couldn't be real. This wasn't possible. He was hallucinating, having a nightmare, high off drugs he had never taken. Something! Some other explanation then that there was a dead body inside of Murphy's apartment with a bullet in her fucking brain!

Her face was frozen in abstract horror, her long dark hair covering half of her features and draping off of the bed to drip red onto the tan carpet. There was a gun on the floor at the foot of the bed. Guess there was no question about the murder weapon.

Murder. God, no. Not murder. Not Murphy. Not in the same sentence, please.

He wondered if this hellacious phantasmagoria was even at all preferable to what he had been fearing to find upon driving up here. Murphy was on a different side of the sentence then he had been dreading that he would be. The subject rather than the direct object. Murphy murdered someone rather than someone murder Murphy.

No. No. Of course this was better. Somehow...The love of his life was alive. The love of his life was alive, but he was a killer.

The love of his life was dead, but he had been an innocent, pure, healing boy. Shit. That one really did sound better. Shit. No. He couldn't breathe. Someone, please! Please tell him that this was all just a big cosmic joke! That it was all just a giant misunderstanding and soon Murphy would be tucked up safe in his arms again. He'd hold him tight. He wouldn't let him go. He'd take care of him, keep him out of trouble. If someone could just, please...give him one more chance.

His hands slid up to cover his eyes as the moisture that had been collecting in them finally began to leak down onto his face. He never wanted to open his eyes again. He'd squeeze them shut and keep them that way until the world decided to right itself and stop screwing him over so damn royally. Once the universe decided to stop being such a shit-show and robbing him of everything and everyone that he cared about the second that he started to realize just how much they meant to him! Fuck the universe! Just...make it all stop. He wished that he'd never allowed it to get this far. Never met Murphy, never opened up his heart to him.

" _Now that I know you, Murphy, I can't imagine my life without you in it. I mean, I've been there done that, and now there's no going back."_

He felt a hand suddenly clamp down on his shoulder and he jumped, shamefully startled by the gentle gesture. It pulled him back to reality far too abruptly and his eyes snapped open far too quickly, his gaze once again being met by the still body of a beautiful girl.

"Blake, I told you to stand by, what are you doing up here?"

"Oh, sorry," he whispered, spinning around, trying to hide his wet cheeks from Shumway's view so that he wouldn't have to answer any other questions. He just didn't have it in him. Didn't have anything in him anymore, really.

"Bellamy!" He knew that voice. Knew it well.

Bellamy booked it down the rest of the stairs so fast he nearly tripped and went sprawling. Murphy was there. Handcuffed against the side of a police car, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes and a blood-soaked t-shirt.

He ran to him. Of course he did. There was no force in the world strong enough to keep him from running to him. Not even his fellow police officer, not even the accusation of a conflict of interest, and a firm demand that he keep back and stop speaking to the suspect immediately. No. He just ignored it all, because Murphy was sobbing and quaking, mumbling incoherent words and shaking his head at him. "Bell, I didn't...it was self-defense! I swear! Please, Bellamy! I wouldn't do this! I didn't want to do it! Ontari was going to kill me...she was...she was..."

Bellamy knew that he should advise him to keep his fucking mouth shut and enact his Miranda Rights, but then he thought of Murphy's troubled past, of his time in juvie and the sharp stings of a knife that still clung to his skin. He wondered if there was any chance in hell, any God or Devil that could keep the kid from spending the rest of his life behind bars. A man with prior convictions had shot and killed a young, slight woman. He wondered if Murphy's claims of self-defense would hold any fucking weight at all. He doubted it.

Tears began to rapidly cascade down his own cheeks again, as well. He studied Murphy, taking in every piece of him even as he tried to assure himself that this wasn't it. That they would get through this, somehow. He didn't really believe that, though. Murphy's life was pretty damn over. And, he honestly felt like his was too.

"Murphy," he finally whispered, opening his mouth for the first time, knowing that whatever he wanted to say to him, he'd have to say it now. Sure he'd probably be able to visit him in prison eventually, but things wouldn't be the same then, and who could say if either of them would even still want to see the other. "It's okay, it's alright. I believe you." And he did. That was the thing. He really did. Maybe it was just because he wanted so badly to; to believe that Murphy was innocent, that Murphy was still Murphy. But he felt like it went beyond that. He'd thought he knew Murphy. He still thought he knew Murphy. Thought that he understood him more than he had ever understood anyone else before. So he believed him. Because Murphy… Murphy was a lot of things but he wasn't _this_.

He wanted to take him into his arms, press his head into the crook of his neck and let him burrow his tear-stained face into his chest. But he couldn't touch him. He was cuffed and crimson. A mere foot away, and yet there was a mile of invisible yellow tape separating them. "I love you." He had to say it. Nothing had ever been truer. And while this was the least romantic situation ever and completely unsuitable for such a confession, Murphy had to know and he had to know now. "So much, Murphy."

Murphy gazed at him, mouth agape, and eyes puffy from crying. "I love you too," he mouthed, though there was no sound behind his words. Bellamy wondered if the world had finally managed to break John Murphy.

And then they were being pushed apart, Murphy was being loaded into the car and Shumway was screaming in Bellamy's face that his behavior here had been inexcusable. It didn't matter, though. Nothing did. Murphy had had it right all along. Bellamy had thought he could show him that he was wrong, that some stuff did matter, that life could be wonderful. Bellamy had been an idiot. A useless sap.

* * *

He sat in his car outside of the house for an unbearably long amount of time. Running his fingers through his hair, wailing, screaming, punching the roof of the car, banging his head back against the headrest. Wishing he could rip himself apart until the sickness he felt inside was reflected on the outside. He thought that he really ought to be covered in blood too. Being in a pristine, freshly pressed uniform made him feel like such a fucking pile of shit. The world was falling down around him and he looked like it was just any other day.

Finally he got out of the car. Only because it was an inevitability. Only because he wanted to slither up to his bedroom and bury himself six feet deep beneath his covers.

Octavia was still awake when he got inside. He wished that she wasn't. He couldn't deal with her right now. He didn't want a shoulder to cry on, he just wanted to sleep.

She turned the TV off as he came into the living room and gazed over the back of the loveseat at him. "Hey, Bell, long night?"

He wordlessly nodded his head and kicked his shoes off. Long night. No, not really. It had all happened in a dizzying blink. He felt a little motion-sick from it all.

Then she was on her feet, stepping out in front of him and her hands were cold on his arms and she was staring up at him with deeply concerned eyes. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"No." Of course, that wasn't a very substantial answer, but at least it was true.

"Why? What happened?" She was tugging on him now, guiding him towards the couch, and he was so tired, so damn exhausted that he was jelly in her hands and he let her force him to take a seat.

He sighed and scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Fucking...shit. I can't do this, O. I can't sit here and pretend like I can do this."

"Do what? Bell...?"

"Murphy was arrested."

Her eyes widened, but not too much. _She wasn't surprised._ Maybe he should have seen it coming too. Maybe this had been another inevitability. "Why?"

He didn't want to say it out loud, he really didn't. But she was gazing at him expectantly, and did he even have a choice in the matter? "He shot someone. They died."

Octavia's eyes widened fully then. So even she had thought murder was beyond Murphy, evidently. He supposed that that was marginally comforting. "Seriously...? Oh my God, Bellamy...why would he do this? After everything you've done for him, how could he do this to you?"

Bellamy jerked out of her touch, her hands falling down into her lap as her features shifted in confusion. "Do this to me? This has nothing to do with me. It was...he says it was self-defense."

"And you believe him." It wasn't a question. She knew that he did. And she seemed to understand why he did. That was extremely comforting, actually.

He nodded. "Yeah, O, I really do. I know given his history...I'm probably the only one who will, though."

She encircled him with her arms and rested her head atop his shoulder, knowing what he really needed. Always knowing what he really needed. "I'm so sorry, Bell."

"I love him."

"I know."

"I want him back."

"I know."

"He's a good person, O. Deep down, he's a really good person."

"Yeah. He is. I know."

* * *

Bellamy's eyes were crusted closed and it was difficult to wake up the next morning. It was almost as though he had a hangover. He was still on the couch, so was Octavia. They were still holding each other. He didn't think he would be able to breathe if her arms weren't around him. "O," he whispered, pressing his head against hers and giving her a gentle squeeze.

Her eyes lazily batted open and she smiled at him. Her smile was a mayfly, though, and it was gone in the space of a blink. He knew that she had just remembered why they had both fallen asleep on the couch, and his stomach churned as he prayed for a different reality.

"Bellamy," Octavia tiredly mumbled, slowly shifting out of his arms as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek.

He knew that he should have gained a handle on himself by now, but he hadn't. Not really. It was a new day and he just wanted to spend the bulk of it crying. He just wanted it to be over. Damn, he really didn't know how he was going to survive waking up every day feeling hopeless, knowing that he had lost something precious and that life would never be quite what it could have been.

"You will get him back, you know," Octavia finally whispered, immediately shattering any hopes of unadulterated denial that he had still been clinging to despite himself. "Murphy is a fighter, he'll get himself out of this, Bell. He will."

Bellamy snickered and shook his head as a deep sigh escaped his lips. "I'd better hope so, because there's nothing that I can do for him."

Octavia's eyes softened and she leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against his, her soft hand still clinging onto his cheek. "Oh, Bell," she mumbled, pity lacing her voice and intertwining with the very same brand of helplessness that he was certain his own contained. "You've already done so much for him. It's not your job to fix this."

Bellamy shook his head, breaking the contact between them. "I shouldn't have let him stay there. I knew how dangerous living there was. I should have...And I know that it's not my job to fix this, but if there was anything that I could to fix it, I would do it."

"He really means that much to you, huh?"

"Yeah, O. He means a whole damn lot."

She smiled weakly at him, and shifted back on the couch, giving him space that he didn't really want. "What a world. My brother and John Murphy...How long has that been a thing, anyway?"

"Saturday was the first time we kissed."

"Right. _Kissed._ Sure. From the state you came home in, I'd guess you did a bit more than that."

"Octavia, we are not talking about my sex life right now."

She scrunched her nose and chuckled softly as she mumbled, "So I guess the fact that you just referred to it as your sex life spells things out scarily clear..."

"Hey, you only have yourself to blame for taking the conversation in this direction."

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "Curiosity killed the cat or whatever."

"Saturday you acted like you didn't suspect anything..."

"I thought I'd let you have your secrets. But you coming home looking like you'd had the best night of your life and then claiming that you had just gone to a movie with Murphy? Yeah, that wasn't at all obvious or anything."

He smiled at her a little, trying not to question why it was that talking about Murphy seemed to be the only thing that could keep him from truly thinking too much about...well, Murphy. Better to joke with Octavia about the good times, brief as they were, then dwell on the stark, irrevocable present.

"I had set out to just go to the movie with him, but then he came out of the closet to me while we were driving to the theater and the next thing I knew we were making out in the Honda."

"That Honda's seen some times."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You know I borrow it sometimes."

"Yeah..."

"Well, Lincoln and I have had some good times in it too."

"Nope! No, that's the end of this, then. We are not venturing into my little sister's sex life, definitely not."

She playfully smirked at him and kicked at his foot with hers, a familiar gesture that she had done a thousand times. Something simple and domestic enough that he could almost accept that maybe everything would turn out okay in the end. That life would go on despite everything, just as it always did.


	7. The Roommate

**Warning: Very dark stuff, sexual-assault is mentioned**

* * *

Bellamy picked him up two and a half weeks later. It was a Thursday. He was innocent. Apparently, even in hell there were miracles. It was freezing cold that day, but the sun was shining so damn brightly that Bellamy could've sworn that it too knew that things were looking up.

The gun had been proven to belong to Ontari. The records of its purchase had been dug up. No one could explain why her gun would be in Murphy's apartment unless she had brought it there. Brought it there with the intention to use it.

Then there was that resident of North Commons. The balding chain-smoker who Bellamy would now be more than willing to give his left lung. He'd reported seeing Ontari knocking on Murphy's door with the gun in her hand. He'd heard Murphy call out in shock and tell her to put it down. Then he'd finished his drag and gone back inside his own apartment. So, okay, maybe he wasn't that great of a person, but Bellamy'd take what he could get.

There was also the fact that Murphy had been pistol-whipped. That one seemed fairly obvious. Bellamy was surprised that it'd taken them over two weeks to realize that Ontari hadn't dealt that blow in self-defense. For a while they'd apparently argued that Murphy and she had wrestled over the gun and she'd gotten in one hit with it before he'd blown her brains out. But no actually, she'd hit Murphy with it right after she entered the room, then she'd forced him onto the bed. Eventually she'd gotten distracted enough that he had been able to get the gun off of her. That was when they'd wrestled for it, and that was when he'd pulled the trigger.

That was the other thing. The bed. The question of the motive.

If Murphy wasn't acting out of self-defense then why had he killed her? Well, they'd figured that it was because she was a beautiful woman and that he had wanted her. They'd found his semen on her and ran with it. Never considering that it'd been the other way around. Never believing him when he'd sworn up and down that she had been the one to force him.

It had been an arduous process. Two and a half weeks of waiting. Sitting around wondering if miracles even existed. And Bellamy hadn't even known what was going on at the time. No one had been willing to tell him a thing, what with his blatantly obvious conflict of interest and the desperate way in which he had gone around asking for news concerning the case.

It had been a strung-out and almost unbearably painful span of time, but finally it had gotten them here. To a verdict. Not guilty.

John Murphy was a free man again with no new marks on his record and no sentence.

Bellamy stood outside rubbing his hands together and burrowing his face into the collar of his coat. He'd be coming out any minute, or so he'd been told. It was going to be the first time that they'd seen each other since the hellacious night of his arrest. It was going to be the first time that Bellamy would face him knowing all that had truly transpired on that night. He felt...well of course he was relieved and thrilled beyond belief that they would be reunited, but he was also more than a little nervous.

The _knowing_ , it made him sick. When he'd found out what that bitch had done to him, bile had risen in his throat and it'd took everything he'd had to swallow it. The thought that someone had done that to Murphy, his funny, caring, gorgeous Murphy, it was almost too much for him to process.

He was scared that he wouldn't know how to act around him, that he wouldn't know what he needed and would fail miserably, somehow managing to make everything a million times worse. He was terrified that he was going to take Murphy home, try to be his support system, but instead wind up watching him break himself apart. He didn't think he could withstand it if that happened. He wanted to take him home and wrap him up in bubble-wrap to prevent anything bad from ever happening to him again. He wanted to put his arms around him and have his touch magically be enough to heal Murphy of the incredible damage that he been inflicted upon him. But he knew that they had a much rockier road ahead of them than that.

"Bellamy?"

Bellamy's eyes instantaneously flickered up from his icy hands and fell upon the boy hesitantly walking towards him. He seemed smaller, like he had lost weight. The clothes he was wearing seemed to drown him and Bellamy was horrified by just how very fragile he looked. He wanted to swoop him up in his arms, lift him off of his feet and spin him around in the air, passionately pressing their lips together and rejoicing in the fact that they'd been reunited. But no. He was too anxious to so much as take a step towards him.

"Murphy..."

They both simply stared at each other then, their noses reddening in the cold and any exposed flesh flecking with goosebumps. What could they say? What was there to say?

"It's good to see you," Bellamy finally whispered after a while, his words coming out visible in the bitter air. Murphy just jerkily bobbed his head up and down, his cracked, dry lips staying firmly shut. "You...You're staying at my home, okay?"

Another nod. More damn radio silence. Bellamy thought that his heart cracking might be the only audible sound for miles around them.

He spun around and began walking towards the Honda, his eyes squeezing shut to dam tears as he walked. The sound of Murphy's footfalls behind him was the only thing that kept him afloat. He opened the passenger side door for him, but Murphy just got inside and tugged it closed himself. Bellamy lingered outside of the car for a moment more than was strictly necessary as he tried to steel himself for the flood of emotions that was bound to hit him once he got inside of it. He took a deep breath before he opened the door and sat down. Murphy was staring out the window, his lips taut as he drew circles with his fingers on the frosted windowpane.

"Murphy..."

"Don't. Bellamy, just...don't."

So Bellamy drove. Because that was all he could do, all he was good for. What had he really ever done for Murphy besides drive?

The ride was far more silent than any other time he'd had Murphy in his car. The quiet was gut-wrenching and he could hardly breathe beneath the pressure of it.

Finally they arrived home. His home, really. But in his mind it was both of their homes. In his mind Murphy would stay there with him forever now and they would build a life together. In his mind none of this was real and they'd both be able to move past it in the span of a couple days. Murphy would mock him from the kitchen as he baked pies and then they'd curl up on the couch together to finally finish watching _Breaking Bad._

Murphy got out of the car first and waited on the porch until Bellamy unlocked the door for him. Octavia was inside sitting on the loveseat. Bellamy could've sworn that she spent a good 60% of her life sitting on that loveseat.

She hopped up off of it the second that she saw Murphy and hurriedly dashed to the front door. Bellamy opened his mouth to yell at her to stop, but it was too late. She was hugging him. Murphy froze, he simply shut down and for a second Bellamy thought that maybe that'd be the extent of it and Octavia would just step away and all would be well, but then Murphy violently shoved her away from him and she hit the back of the sofa with a soft grunt, her eyes widening with hurt perplexity. Murphy gazed at her with guilt in his eyes, his chest puffing in and out as he struggled to regain ahold of the rhythm of his breaths.

Octavia didn't know. Of course, she knew that Murphy had killed Ontari, and that he'd done it out of self-defense, but beyond that...well, Bellamy just figured it was best that she never know.

The three of them were trapped in amber, gawking at one another, all of them struggling to find a way to move past this mess of a moment. Bellamy took a step forward and closed the front door before he took position between Murphy and Octavia, hoping to do a bit of damage control. "O, you need to...give him space."

Octavia nodded, her eyes glistening with moisture as she cupped her hand over her mouth, as though she were trying to keep her voice trapped within her body.

"I'm sorry," Murphy whispered from behind him. He spoke so damn softly that his voice was hardly recognizable as his own. Bellamy had become accustomed to brash, outspoken Murphy, not the sort of Murphy who whispered apologies as he stood inert in the doorway and let tears stream freely down his cheeks.

"It's fine, Murphy," Octavia whispered back, her hand dropping down to her side. The shock was gone from her eyes now, it had been replaced by enough pity to be painful to look at. Bellamy wished that she were a bit better at hiding her emotions.

Murphy brushed past Bellamy and climbed up the stairs without another word. Bellamy wasn't sure whether or not he should follow him, so he just stayed where he was standing as his brain became unhinged by his unease.

"What's going on?" Octavia asked, hushed as she tried to keep the boy upstairs from overhearing her.

Bellamy sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "I can't even imagine what he's going through. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. He's barely spoken a word to me since I picked him up, and I'm not sure that there's anything that I can say to get him to open up to me."

"Is he traumatized?"

"Maybe. I sure as hell would be in his situation."

"But I don't understand, Murphy's mom died in his arms, right? He's been in a knife fight and stuff...why is this the thing that traumatizes him? Does he feel guilty?"

"Why would he feel guilty? He shouldn't feel guilty. He did the right thing. He stayed alive."

"I know, Bell. I know. But does he? I mean, regardless of why he did it...he still took someone's life, you know?"

"She fucking deserved it, Octavia!"

Octavia startled from the ferociousness and sheer volume of his words, her hands curling into fists at her side before she yelled back, "I know! I know that he had no choice! None of this is fault, but he might still feel like it is. That's all I'm saying, Bellamy! You losing your shit like this isn't going to help anyone, least of all him."

Bellamy knew that she was right, it was a marvel how frequently she was completely and utterly correct. So, he took a deep breath and nodded his head, allowing some of the tension in his body to be released. "Yeah. You're right, I didn't mean to scream, I'm sorry, O."

A ghost of a smile danced across her lips and she shook her head at him, coming forward to clap her hand down on his shoulder. "You don't need to apologize. This is hard. Hard for all of us, and I don't think that any of us really know what we should be doing, but at least we're all trying, right? That's all that we can do."

Bellamy reached up to set his hand down on the arm that she was resting on his shoulder. He forced a smile of his own and nodded once more. "It just hurts seeing him like this. I want some how-to guide to tell me what I need to do to bandage him up and take his pain away."

"Patience, perseverance, and compassion are the only tools we've got at our disposal, big brother. No how-to guide, just hope."

"When the hell did you become so much wiser than me? It just isn't fair."

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders as her hand slid down off of him. "I think it was when I met Lincoln. The world's made a lot more sense since then."

"The world's been a bewildering mess since I met Murphy, but I think that trying to bring order to it is what's been giving my life purpose. I think that he's what's brought real meaning to my life, and no matter how awful at all of this I might be, I'm not going to let him face any of this alone."

"Oh, count on it. You think I'm not going to be right there with you? I may have totally hated his guts at first, but I've seen how happy he made you, and I want both of you to be happy like that again. It really doesn't make any sense, but he's right for you. And I'm always going to have the back of anyone that's right for you, Bell."

He stepped forward and took the back of her head in one hand as his other arm encircled her small frame. He pressed her against him and breathed in the crisp scent of her coconut conditioner. "I love you so much, Octavia. I couldn't ask for a better sister. I won the lottery with this one."

"I love you too, you hopeless sap."

"Ah, but you see, Octavia, I'm not hopeless."

"And thank God for that."

* * *

Murphy had been in the shower for over an hour. Bellamy was worried that by this point he was literally washing his skin off. He'd thought about knocking on the door and asking if everything was alright, but once he'd got close enough to lift his fist to the wood he'd heard muffled sobbing and was prompted to make a cowardly retreat.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed now, staring at the bathroom door. Staring and waiting. Finally, it was slowly pushed open and Murphy stepped out into the bedroom, his skin lobster-tinted from the heat of the water and his hair hanging over his face in limp strands. He was wearing Bellamy's clothes now which fit him even worse than the ones he had left the prison in.

Bellamy smiled at him and patted the mattress next to him. Murphy shook his head. "I don't want to talk."

Bellamy refused to let his smile falter as he continued patting the bed. "Alright, you don't have to, just come sit next to me."

Murphy rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand and stared down at him with deeply suspicious eyes. Finally he sighed, nodded, and sat down right where Bellamy had asked him to.

"Can I put my arm around you, or will you punch me if I try?" Admittedly it was kind of a shitty thing to say, but the urge to hold him was becoming stronger by the second and he knew that it'd be best just to seek permission to do so.

Murphy cast his eyes down at the floor before he scooted closer to Bellamy and rested his head down on his chest. Bellamy tensed for a passing moment, surprised in a good way, before he folded his arms loosely across the boy's body and set one hand down on his wet hair. "My screwed up brain thought she was Ontari for a second."

Bellamy had begun combing his fingers through his hair but he stopped as soon as the words left his mouth. "She's not. She would never hurt you."

Murphy nodded against his chest, his hair clinging onto his t-shirt and creating water spots. "Yeah. I know."

"You're safe now. I won't let anyone else hurt you. Ever."

"The damage is already done."

Bellamy swallowed a knot that had formed in his throat and shook his head as he resumed absentmindedly stroking Murphy's hair. "You'll get past this."

"But who will I be once I have? " Murphy's voice cracked mid-sentence and he burrowed his head closer to Bellamy so that he couldn't see his face. Bellamy could feel more moisture soaking through his shirt, and this time he knew that it wasn't coming from Murphy's hair.

"Someone I love. Always someone I love."

"You shouldn't. You won't."

"Of course I will. You mean everything to me. I don't care how hard things get, you're worth the world."

"No. I can't get clean, Bellamy…God, does that even make any fucking sense to you?" His breath hitched and he tugged himself out of Bellamy's hold, hastily scuttling back further onto the bed. Bellamy stared at him, trying to stifle his disappointment as he watched him bury his head in his hands. "I tried, but there was so much blood and before that…before that… well you know…" His hands dropped down on the bed and he grabbed fistfuls of the cover beneath him as a sick mockery of a grin tugged at his lips.

"Murphy, that's not your fault. It doesn't make you unclean somehow. You're still gorgeous and perfect and I love you."

"There's nothing good about me! Nothing! I had nothing before, I have less than nothing now!"

"You're sweet and caring. You're hilarious. You're handsome. You're smart and determined. Stubborn and resilient. Strong, capable, interesting. If that's not enough to you, then I'm sorry. But to me? You really are perfect, Murphy. More than I could ever ask for."

"Resilient is fucking right, huh? Damn has the world drilled that one into me. All that other shit, though? It's disappearing more and more every day. Maybe once I was some of those things and that's why you liked me, but the second it really occurs to you just how empty I'm becoming, you'll stop seeing me through your stupid tinted glasses and realize how fucked-up I am."

Bellamy shook his head and pushed himself back on the bed until they were sitting side by side again, their heads pressing back against the headboard like it was a lifeline. "No. You're the one with the stupid false perception of yourself. You're the one who refuses to believe that I care about you as much as you care about me. You think if our situations were reversed you'd even once consider casting me aside because you didn't want to deal with what I'd been through? Hell no, and I'm not going to do that to you, either, so stop worrying about it."

"If this happened to you, you'd get over it. You wouldn't become some weird, paranoid mess that can't be hugged by his friend because he's terrified of fucking brunettes putting their hands on him. You wouldn't be unemployed, crashing at my place for God only knows how long, and hating yourself for not being able to bear the thought of going back to school and finishing the last four fucking months so that you can finally get the diploma that you'd always promised yourself you'd get. Because everyone knows you can't do shit else, but you thought maybe, maybe if you could just manage to graduate from high school…But no, instead you just wind up proving everyone right and becoming a fucking murderer."

"You're not a murderer! You're a survivor! You think I'd be handling this any better? I can promise you that I wouldn't be. I could barely even take it when my mom died, but you've stood up to so much more. I don't give a shit that you don't have a job, I'm freaking thrilled that you're going to be living here, and if you don't finish school? Fine, just get your GED, what does it matter? No one has the right to judge you. And can't do shit else? Murphy, have you tasted your cooking?"

The smallest hint of a smile passed over Murphy's lips and Bellamy wanted to cry tears of joy at the sight of it. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. _He_ was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he just wanted the same thing for him that he had since the day he met him, he just wanted him to be happy.

Murphy wiped at his cheeks with his palm and scrubbed his knuckles against his nose. "Thanks, Bell. For everything. You…I don't deserve you, but damn am I glad that you have shit taste in men and are a total settler."

"I'll have you know my taste in men is supreme. And I'm no settler."

"Whatever. You sure you don't mind me staying here for awhile?"

Bellamy leaned away from the headboard as he shook his head and grabbed Murphy's hand to hold it tight in his own. "This can be your house too, Murphy. I want it to be your house too."

Murphy squeezed his hand back and pulled his knees up against his chest. "Good, because, surprisingly, there's no one else offering to put me up."

"Shocker."

"How does your sister feel about this, though? Honestly."

"She said that you're right for me and that she has your back. So I think she's pretty okay."

"Right for you? Please, has she seen you? Body of a Greek God, soul of a veterinarian."

"Veterinarian?"

"Yeah, I feel like they're generally good people. I was going to say poet, but they're all a bunch of whiny bastards. Vets are better."

Bellamy grinned at him and playfully rolled his eyes. "Reason why you are, in fact, right for me number thirty-four: you say weird shit like that and somehow it always makes sense to me."

"Well that's because you're sensible."

"Clearly."

* * *

Murphy opted to sleep in his bed. Bellamy was kind of surprised, because he'd figured that being in bed with someone else wouldn't be entirely comfortable for him right now, but Murphy had just told him that his hair was short and poofy enough that they'd be fine.

Apparently fine hadn't exactly been the right word. He woke up to Murphy thrashing at the blankets, sweating, and panting.

His eyes were closed, but his eyebrows were scrunched tightly together and his limbs were flinging out in random, violent sweeps of motion. "Murphy! Hey, Murphy, Murphy, wake up."

Bellamy set his hand down on Murphy's and gave it a gentle shake, trying to will him to open his eyes. Murphy jerked away from his touch and threw his hand up to push him away; his nails grazed Bellamy's cheek with a sting and Bellamy finally resolved to capture Murphy's hands in his own to keep him from doing anymore damage. "Murph, hey, wake up!"

Murphy's eyes finally sprung open, moist and shaking in their sockets. "Bell?" He forced himself into a sitting position and ran his hands through his hair with a heavy sigh. "Shit, did I scratch you? I'm sorry."

Bellamy pressed his hand against his cheek that was slowly collecting thin layers of blood upon the new cuts decorating it. "It's all good. You okay?"

"Just a nightmare. Damn, I sound five years old. A nightmare? Why don't I piss myself while I'm at it?"

"Please don't," Bellamy whispered, grinning at him as he reached forward to gingerly tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "And nightmares aren't reserved for five year-olds, you know? Octavia still has them sometimes."

Murphy slowly and resignedly nodded his head. "It's just I haven't had 'em since I was twelve and dreamt about burning to death with my dad. Even after my mom...didn't really have any, so this is...It's been awhile."

Bellamy took his hand off of his own face, wiped his blood off on his boxers, and pulled Murphy into his arms. "Anything I can do to help you get rid of them?"

"Maybe I should sleep downstairs. I don't want to keep waking you up."

"Murphy, that's not what I was implying. There's no way I'm going to let you go downstairs and deal with this alone. You'll stay right here."

"I scratched you. Could do worse."

"I'll survive. Just lay back down and try to go back to sleep. If you can't, then we'll take things from there." Bellamy gently pressed his hand down against Murphy's arm and tried to coax him back into a more supine position, but Murphy refused to budge.

"I don't want to sleep anymore."

"Murphy..."

"I can't relive it like that. No way. Every time I close my eyes, I see _her._ Pinning me down...waving a gun in face, laughing as she..."

"Murphy, she's gone."

"Yeah, made sure of that, didn't I? It's funny, because I liked her, Bell. We got on pretty well and I thought we'd be friends. Thought that when I looked through the peephole at two AM and saw her standing there that she needed my help. And I feel so stupid, so weak. Because I let her in."

"You couldn't have known. That doesn't make you stupid, you were just trying to be a good person, how were you to know she was a psychopath?"

"Dunno. Just feel like I shoulda. Or like I should have been able to get myself out of it somehow before she got me on the bed."

"She had a gun in her hand, of course you did what she told you to."

"Yeah. I guess so. But I just can't stand the thought of it. What she did to me."

"Neither can I. I can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you."

Murphy stared down at him blankly as Bellamy rested his head down on the crook of his own elbow, gazing up at the boy next to him. For a second their breaths were the only sound in the room. "Bellamy, I don't want to do this to you. Caring about me is only going to make you miserable."

"Oh my God, Murphy, we've been over this, I love you. I love you and you could never make me miserable."

"But when you love someone you want them to be happy, and I can't swing that right now, so I just..."

"Sssh, Murphy. You don't have to be happy. Sure I want you to be happy, but I'm going to love you even if you aren't, until you are again. And you will be."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Bell. It's just hard to have faith in something as good as you in a world as forsaken as this one."

Bellamy smiled softly at him as he reached out to gingerly glide the back of his hand against the downy skin of his cheek. "I know the feeling."


	8. The Runaway

**Trigger Warnings: Very blunt conversations about sexual abuse, victim blaming, and just a whole lot of dark crap again.**

* * *

The bags beneath Murphy's eyes the next morning were deeper than those marring the smooth skin of an eighteen year-old boy had any right to be. He looked like he was going to pass out when Bellamy woke up, stumbled downstairs, and found him sitting at the dining table.

"Bell, you have any coffee?" he immediately questioned the second that Bellamy's feet stepped off the stairs and onto the tiled floor. His voice was a tad hoarse, but Bellamy didn't want to stop and consider why it was so.

"Yeah, sure, one second." He hurriedly set about preparing the drink for him, pleased to be given something to do, no matter how trifling.

Most of the day was much the same. Spotted with faux domesticity, careful treading, and a complete lack of serious conversation. Bellamy had taken the day off work. One day, just one. Part of him had been worried that one day would evolve into five, but Murphy's repetitive insistence that he hadn't even needed Bellamy to take the one day off was a bit of a reassurance.

So things were fine in the eyes of a professional denialist for a while. They actually watched a few episodes of _Breaking Bad_ and pretended that it was Christmas Eve again and Murphy hadn't just been released from serving time for the crime of survival. Then there was a knock on the door.

The simple, airy pounding sound was enough to terrify Murphy almost to the point where he became that handcuffed boy screaming Bellamy's name from across North Common's parking lot all over again. Bellamy silently cursed the existence of their unannounced visitor as he scooted nearer to Murphy on the loveseat and enclosed him in his arms, whispering soft, soothing solaces to try to quell his trembling. The knocking only grew more insistent the longer he procrastinated answering the door, though, which in turn had the adverse effect of perpetuating Murphy's anxiety.

Finally with a sigh, and a brief stroke of his fingers through Murphy's hair, he stood up and made his way to the door. Murphy disappeared upstairs before he pulled it open, and given his last experience with opening a door, he didn't blame him one bit.

"Jasper? What are you doing here?" It was a reasonable question, really. He'd been under the impression that school was currently in session, _and_ that Jasper Jordan had no business being at his house at a time like this.

Jasper's eyes were constricted by unjustifiable fury as he forced his way through the doorway. "Bellamy, is it true!?"

"What? Is what true?"

"Octavia told me that you're letting John Murphy stay with you."

Now Bellamy's eyes were narrowed too and he extended an arm out in front of him to try to quiet the fervent kid. "Well, yeah, that's true."

"Why? Seriously, Bellamy, what are you thinking?"

"That it's none of your damn business."

"But you're endangering your sister. How could you do that?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "Endangering her how, exactly?" He knew the second that the words left his lips that he shouldn't have said them. That he didn't want to hear the answer, because he already knew what it was going to be. How stupid and misinformed it was going to be.

"By forcing her to live with a murderer!" Jasper's cheeks were red with uncontained rage and he flung his arms out in the typically exaggerated manner that teenagers so frequently adopt when throwing a fit.

Bellamy closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, knowing that if he didn't calm himself down a little before he opened his mouth, that things would get very ugly, very quickly. Because an anger was brewing inside of him unlike any he had ever been given to and he wasn't sure how to stop it from churning up his throat. "Dammit, Jasper! You don't have the fucking right to come into my house and accuse my boyfriend of being a fucking murderer, because he just isn't. He's been through enough without having to deal with your ignorance and judgement. You want to look out for Octavia? Don't come over to her house and start antagonizing her family. And don't you dare try to say that Murphy isn't her family because I know that she would tell you otherwise. Now get out."

Jasper's eyes were wide with shock now, his mouth slightly agape as his brain seemingly spun rapidly within the confines of his head, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Bellamy was actually pretty content with the way his rant had turned out. Felt like he'd really gotten his point across.

"Hey, Jordan. You scared that you're gonna be my next victim?" Murphy stepped into the living room, drawing his finger against his throat like it was a knife, and grinning at the already horrified teenager across the room from him.

"Shit, Murphy. Not helping," Bellamy hissed, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Murphy smirked at him and shrugged his shoulders as he strolled closer to a clearly shell-shocked Jasper. "No, hey, listen, Jordan, let me tell ya' something. I was fucking raped. I'm not a danger to society, I just killed my fucking rapist before she got the chance to kill me. You have a problem with that?"

Bellamy's jaw dropped open and he hurriedly cupped his hand over it. Murphy hadn't said the word before, hadn't been this blunt, not once. He wasn't sure how he should take it. Frankly, hearing it aloud sent chills down his spine and he wondered why it was that Murphy was choosing to drag something so dark into the light right now of all times.

"Oh my God," Jasper whispered, taking a step back, away from Murphy and towards Bellamy. "I didn't know..."

"No shit."

"Octavia doesn't know..." Bellamy whispered, finally finding his voice again. "Jasper, you can't tell her. You can't tell anyone."

Jasper mutely bobbed his head up and down as he swallowed back the emotions that were constricting his throat.

"Octavia doesn't know?" Murphy asked, his voice faltering a bit from its former, eerie false-bravado.

Bellamy shook his head. "I didn't think you'd want her to."

"No...I...No, you're right. Good call."

"I'm sorry can I..."

"Yeah, please leave, Jasper. And really, don't talk about this with anyone. It's not your business."

Jasper nodded his head again as he silently brushed past Bellamy and fled out the door like he couldn't bear to stay there a second later. Bellamy couldn't say that his desperation was unwarranted. Things had gotten real dark, real fast, and even he wasn't sure how to handle Murphy in this current moment.

The door slammed shut behind Jasper and left the two of them standing there, staring at each other in the wake of an overdue eruption. "Murphy...what was that?"

"I just...couldn't listen to him call me a murderer...I'm not."

"No. No, of course, you're not."

"My mom, she was the last person to call me that. I wonder what she'd say about me now."

"Your mom was a fool who couldn't stop dwelling on the past long enough to realize that she had a beautiful son who needed her. I wouldn't listen to a word from the lips of a woman like that."

"I do bring death to people, though. I mean, that's not even up for debate. Everywhere I go...boom, death." Murphy's eyes were so emotionless that Bellamy had to cast his own to the ground and grit his teeth to keep from being swept up in a dizzying panic over the emptiness that they reflected.

"That's ridiculous. You aren't cursed."

"Just damn unlucky."

"No...Well, kind of, but that's not your fault."

"What if you die?" The blankness in Murphy's eyes dissipated as the question left his lips and Bellamy could once again see the vulnerable kid inside of him. He didn't like to see him this afraid, but it was still preferable to the hollow shell that he'd been conversing with for the last few minutes.

"Murphy...come on, I won't. Don't say stuff like that."

"What if I'm just a tornado and all that I'll ever be able to do is damage the world around me no matter how hard I try not to?"

"You've never done any damage to the world; the world is the one that keeps damaging you."

Murphy gazed at him wordlessly for a moment before the sad veneer of a smile swept over his features. "If that's the case, then maybe I really am dangerous. Because if the world truly is out to hurt me, then you'd be its means of doing so."

"I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know. I meant...if something ever happened to you."

"You can't worry about death, Murphy. Yours or mine. It'd drive you crazy. Just live."

"Easier said than done."

"Isn't everything?" Bellamy sighed as he spoke, ran his fingers through his own extraordinarily unkempt hair, and strode forward. "But you need to stop worrying about me, Murphy. You need to worry about yourself."

"I'm fine, Bellamy."

Bellamy pulled Murphy into his arms and unhurriedly pecked his lips against his forehead. He knew that he was lying. The fact that he was far from fine was tortuously apparent, but Bellamy didn't have the heart to argue with him over it. He wanted so badly for those words to be true. For everything to just suddenly be fine. For them to just be a couple standing in their living room together, struck with love and bliss as they embraced each other. But the harsh reality was, they were a couple standing in their living room together, struck with fear and melancholy as they frantically clung to each other, praying that the world wouldn't be quite so cruel as to force them apart.

* * *

"Octavia, do you have plans today?" It was Saturday. Bellamy had to go to work, and he was a bit pressed for time, but his sister had just woken up and he really needed to get a word in with her before he left.

"I was probably going to spend time with Lincoln. Why?"

"I hate to ask this of you, but..."

She put her hand up to halt him and grinned as she leaned her back against the kitchen counter behind her. "I told him to come over here tonight. We're just going to watch a movie or something. So, don't worry, I'll look after Murphy for you while you're gone." Her smile grew and she took a step away from the counter, strolling towards him with an impish bounce in her step. "And besides, our boyfriends will finally get to meet each other."

"Oh, right, I forgot that they haven't met." Bellamy grinned back at her for a moment before saying, "Oh, well, I'm sure they'll get along."

"And why's that?"

"Because we both have good taste in men, obviously."

She laughed and nodded her head in agreement as she took another step forward and clapped her hands down on her brother's shoulders. "True, enough."

"Oh, but, Octavia, there's something else I need to talk to you about before I leave."

Her hands slipped down off of his arms and she tilted her head to the side. "What is it?"

He stared down at her for a moment, pursing his lips as he tried to figure out how to best word what needed to be said. "Why did you tell Jasper about Murphy living here?"

Octavia's eyes widened and her mouth fell open with shock that he could've been able to discern as genuine from over a mile away. "Wait, what? I didn't...The only person I've told is Clarke. Damn, he must've overheard me." She fell silent and frowned up at him for a moment before her expression tinted with perplexity and she asked, "What did he do?"

"He came over here to tell me that I was endangering your life by forcing you to live with a murderer."

Octavia grimaced and made a soft hissing sound as she shook her head back and forth in frustration. "Shit, Bell, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, but the thing is, Murphy overheard him and then he kind of flipped out and had a bit of a breakdown and it just...wasn't great."

"Ah, damn. Jasper...You know he's always had a crush on me, so he always has to go and play the hero. Plus he hates Murphy."

"Yeah. Pretty sure the feeling is mutual."

Octavia's lips quirked upwards briefly as she nodded her head. "But I am sorry. I never would've told him; I only told Clarke because it came up and I knew that she'd be understanding about it."

Bellamy smiled at her and rubbed his hand against her arm reassuringly. "That's fine. I know that Clarke won't try to pull anything stupid. Anyway, thank you for looking out for Murphy, and I'll see you very late tonight, okay?"

"Alright, have a good day, Bell. See you tonight."

* * *

When Bellamy got back from work Lincoln was still at the house. The living room was dark save for the flicker of the television as his sister and her boyfriend watched what appeared to be _Braveheart_. They were snuggled up next to each other, only taking up one cushion of the loveseat as Octavia cocooned herself within Lincoln's muscular form.

"Hey, O," Bellamy greeted as he shut the front door behind him and ambled over to stand behind the sofa. "Hello, Lincoln."

"Hey, Bell," Octavia replied, pausing the television and shifting away from Lincoln so that she could position herself to face her brother. "How was work?"

He shrugged and set his hand down on the back of the loveseat, putting some of his weight onto it. "Pretty slow night." He sighed before quietly adding, "Then again, I guess that's a good thing." He took his hands off the couch and stood up straight, forcing a small smile as he asked, "How's your day been?"

She smiled back at him as she absentmindedly rested one of her hands on her boyfriend's bicep. "Not too shabby." Lincoln smiled over at her and lifted his hand up to nestle it in her hair.

"Murphy upstairs?"

"Yeah. He umm...He's just been abnormally quiet today. Very un-Murphy-ish."

"No surprise there," Bellamy whispered, frowning as his eyes hesitantly shifted onto Lincoln. He couldn't help but wonder if his own boyfriend had given his sister's a bad first impression of himself. He'd kind of been hoping that they'd get on. He supposed that it was too much to ask for Murphy to "get on" with anyone right now, though. He was also more than curious how much Octavia had told Lincoln about the situation. Though, of course, Octavia didn't really even know all that much about the situation, herself.

"Sorry, Bell."

"It's fine."

"I just feel bad about the stuff with Jasper...I hate to think I accidentally made things worse."

"You didn't. It's fine. I'm sure he'd be acting this way even if Jasper hadn't come here. Anyway, just, enjoy your night, you two." He waved his hand at the pair before quickly making his way up the staircase and towards his bedroom. The door was shut and he was left with the conundrum of whether or not to knock. On the one hand, knocking was a recent no-no, but on the other hand, knocking was just plain polite. In the end, he opted to forgo manners and just open the door.

Murphy was lying on the bed with his back turned to Bellamy. He wasn't underneath the blankets and he was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt rather than something more comfortable. "Murphy," Bellamy tentatively whispered as he made his way over to the bed.

Murphy instantly bolted up and rolled to face him, his expression tinged with anxiety for a moment before he laid eyes on Bellamy and sighed. "Hey, Bellamy."

"Hey..." Bellamy didn't know what to say, he first thought about asking how he was doing, but quickly rejected it as being a stupid and unnecessarily demeaning question.

As he was about to give up on talking and simply make his way into the bathroom to start his nightly routine Murphy's voice caught him unawares. "Hey, um...I need to get all of my shit out of...of North Commons so that the landlord doesn't get rid of it when he rents out the apartment so...could you maybe drive me there? Like relatively soon-ish..."

Bellamy's breath caught in his throat but he forced himself to keep his features firm and in check as he slowly bobbed his head up and down. His stomach soon began to buzz with a sick sense of nausea that caused him to start shaking his head instead, however. "Just let me get it all for you. I don't need you to come."

Murphy's eyebrows scrunched together and he shook his head back and forth, with more vigor than Bellamy had enlisted. "No. I'm coming. I'm not that weak, I don't need you to protect me from my own damn apartment. I just need a ride."

Bellamy frowned at him as he folded his arms across his chest in a juvenile display of exasperation. "No, because this is stupid. You're just trying to prove a point to me that you don't need to prove. You think that I think you're weak, so you're going to force yourself to step right back into your nightmares and it's not going to end well. You're not going."

Murphy hopped off of the bed and squeezed his hands into fists as he stood across from Bellamy. "You don't get to tell me what to do. I'm an adult! I'm a human, not your fucking pet-project. You don't get to decide what's best for me. And shit, Bell, not everything is about you! I don't want to go there to prove some fucking point to you; I want to go there to prove something to myself!"

Bellamy bit down hard on his bottom lip as his arms dropped limply to his sides. He could feel moisture beginning to collect in his tear ducts and he frantically tried to blink it away. "Murphy...please, I'm sorry. I know that you have to make your own decisions, but I'm just trying to keep you from making a stupid one. Because I love you."

"Everything's always because you love me, Bellamy. Sometimes I wonder what that even means to you."

"Why are you turning against me all of a sudden? This isn't fair. I'm just trying to help you."

"Because! Because our relationship started with you fixing my broken nose and since then that's all it's been! Just you trying to fix me over and over and over again! Don't you get sick of it? I sure as hell am."

Bellamy's blinking tactic was failing miserably and he felt tears begin to cascade down his cheeks. He moved to plan B and began hurriedly wiping at them before they got the chance to start dripping off of his skin. Murphy wasn't crying, his eyes were cold and hard and Bellamy found that he was almost afraid of them. Afraid of the complete and utter loathing that they were reflecting towards him. "Then what do you want from me!? You want me to just sit back and what? Just let you bask in your misery?"

"Right, because that's what I'm doing. I'm choosing this. Relishing in it. Fucking _love_ being miserable."

"Maybe you do!"

Murphy's eyes widened dangerously and he shook his head back and forth with a kind of calculated terseness. "Screw you, Bellamy. You think that I chose any of this?"

"I think that you're making it worse by treating the one person who gives a shit about you like they're your fucking enemy!"

"The one...Oh, right. You're the one person who gives a shit about me. All I've got. So I'm just your fucking property and it doesn't matter how you treat me because I'm so damn indebted to you that I've got no choice but to stay with you forever?"

"I treat you great! I'm letting you live in my house! I didn't have to do that! I've defended you, comforted you, loved you, and this is the thanks I get!?"

"Exactly! You see, you think you deserve thanks! Because I _am_ fucking indebted to you! News flash, that's not a healthy relationship! I don't have shit to offer you! You're fucking perfect and I can't think of one damn reason why someone like you would be with someone like me unless you get off on having someone rely solely upon you."

"I wasn't looking for anything from you but you. Yourself. I fell in love with you as a person. And not because you needed me, but because you were so damn strong that you didn't need anyone, not really. You pushed people away, but I got you to let me in, and I loved you for that."

"Loved..." Murphy closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he crumpled onto the bed next to him and burrowed his face into his cupped hands. "Shit. Shit. Shit. I fucked up."

Bellamy sighed and rubbed at his wet cheeks one more time before he hesitantly crept towards the bed and slowly took a seat. He carefully wrapped his arm around Murphy as he tried to calm his own breathing and shake the residual fury that still swelled inside of him. "Love. Love. Present tense."

Murphy shook his head and began to run his fingers through his hair with a frantic sort of desperation in the motion that set Bellamy on edge. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I...I need to go." And then he stood up and began walking to the door.

Bellamy was left with his arm curved around an invisible body and his mouth gaping open in confusion. "Go where?" he asked tilting his head as he too rose to his feet.

"Doesn't matter. Just...I need to not be here right now."

"Murphy," Bellamy reached out to tug on Murphy's arm and tried to pull him back towards him. "What you need to do is sit down and think for a moment."

"I've been thinking all day. I need to go somewhere."

"It's freezing. You're not making sense."

"No, I...I'll see you later. I need to just...take a walk." He ripped his arm away from Bellamy's grasp and walked out the door, bounding down the stairs before Bellamy could so much as register that he was gone.

He dashed downstairs just in time to watch the front door fly closed. "Bellamy!? What the hell was that?" Octavia asked, gazing at the front door as bewilderment overtook her features.

"He's being...," Bellamy stopped and looked at Lincoln, whose expression frustratingly gave nothing away, "Just so ridiculous. I don't know what to do."

Octavia's eyes widened and she hurried off the loveseat and to his side. "Do you want me to go get him with you?"

Bellamy stared at the door and uselessly shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not even sure that I can be around him right now. He's..."

Octavia's fingers were suddenly skimming against his cheeks and she was looking up at him with rapidly hardening eyes. "He made you cry," she stated bluntly.

Bellamy nibbled at the inside of his cheek and kept on shrugging. "Yeah, but it's not my feelings that matter right now."

"That isn't true. Your feelings always matter. No matter how hurt he is, he doesn't have the right to hurt you."

Bellamy sighed and rubbed the palms of his hands together as he racked his brain for the right course of action. He was still mad, and maybe Octavia was right, but on the other hand, it wasn't Murphy's fault that he was in a bad place and reacting with the only defense mechanism that he had ever developed. Murphy lashed out when he was upset, that was part of who he was, not a great part of who he was, but a part, nonetheless. Bellamy had to be willing to put up with that if he was going to be with him. He didn't want to be his punching bag, either, though. But he was outside alone, dissolving into something unrecognizable, and Bellamy was so, so scared. Scared that he loved someone who couldn't quite seem to love him back properly. Scared that if Murphy kept on like this, that he'd have no choice but to stop loving him. And if he stopped loving Murphy then...where would he go? What would have been the point of any of this? And what kind of person would that make him?

Finally, after what could've been a minute of contemplation or an hour of paralyzing reverie, he moved past his sister and silently walked out the door.


End file.
